When You're Gone
by Rachel Greenwood
Summary: Jack is sent to war, and Rose goes to stay with Ruth and her new husband. They each try to make it as best they can, but there's nothing easy about war, no matter where you are, not even with a love like theirs.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I hope everyone likes this first chapter. I've decided to try and focus on no more than three stories at a time in hopes of keeping them updated and keeping good ideas flowing. I've tried a few times to get back into writing, but it just didn't quite work out, for different reasons. I'm feeling a lot better overall lately, and I have a lot more ideas. This chapter will have some parts that border on M. Just a warning. **

_1917 _

_Philadelphia_

"It won't be so bad," Jack said. He put his hand on her cheek. "It'll all be over, and I'll be back before you know it. You'll see."

Rose frowned. "Somehow I don't believe that's true."

He lightly rubbed his thumb across her cheek. She was so soft; even after five years, he still marveled at it. He struggled to keep up a smile. How long before he got to touch her again? It was nearly six already, and that left them, what, fourteen more hours together? It wasn't enough time. It hadn't been enough time a month earlier, when he'd received the notice.

"You gotta believe Rose," he said. "We both do."

"I know." Rose closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. "I'm trying."

Jack kissed her forehead. "We'll get through this. I promise."

"Jack, you can't promise something like that."

"Sure I can," he said.

"Jack-"

"Rose."

They regarded each other for a moment, she with skeptical eyes, he with hopeful ones.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"You know the answer to that."

"But do you?" he pressed.

"Jack, of course I trust you," Rose said. "But you're not in control of this situation. Neither of us are."

"We're not in control of anything, ever," Jack pointed out.

"Yes, and it's even worse now."

"I know," he said. "I get it. Believe me, Rose, I do. I'm just as afraid as you are."

"You haven't been acting afraid."

"I've been trying not to think about it," he replied. "Just take things one day at a time."

"And now we're out of days," Rose said sadly.

"We're not." His voice was firm. "Rose, we've got plenty of time left together. You'll see." He brushed her curls back. "This ios just something we've gotta get through, and we _will_ get through it. I promise."

"It's not fair. We almost lost each other, and now it might happen again." Rose shook her head. "I know how selfish I sound. I know hundreds of people have already lost loved ones, and all those men have lost their own lives, and all those still fighting desperately want to go home, but that doesn't change the way I feel." She gripped the front of his shirt with both hands. "All I can think about if losing you, and I can't stand it."

"Yes, you can," he said. His blue eyes were tender but determined. "Rose, if something happens, if I can't make it back, you _will_ go on, You'll keep living. You'll be happy. Just like you promised back then, Remember?"

"I remember."

"I need you to promise me again," Jack said. "Please, Rose, promise you won't give up. No matter what happens, you'll keep going."

"I promise, Jack."

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She rested her head on his shoulder.  
But you must promise me something also," Rose said.

"Anything."

"Promise _you_ won't give up," she said. "You're going somewhere far worse than either of us can imagine. Promise me you won't let it destroy you. You won't die inside. You'll hold on to as much hope as you can, and you'll remember our life together, and you'll remember how much you have to live for."

A lump filled Jack's throat. Tears pricked his eyes, but he blinked them away. He tightened his grip on her and kissed her hair. "I promise, Rose," he said.

...

Ruth's house was modest by her standards, but in fact, it was quite comfortable. It had two stories, a cellar, and an attic large enough for servants' quarters and storage. There was a garden in the back and a garage. The first floor contained the kitchen, dining room, pantry, formal sitting room, daily sitting room, library, and her husband's study. Upstairs there were five bedrooms, each with its own dressing and bathroom.

All things considered, it was far from the dire situation she'd feared after her first husband's death, though most of the time she preferred not to think about those days, which was just fine with Jack and Rose. This was only their third time seeing her in the past five years, and tensions still ran high at times.

They were in Los Angeles when the notice came. They'd taken a small cottage near the beach, intending to stay a few months while Jack worked on his watercolor technique and Rose explored a potential motion picture contract.

And then, during their second month, everything changed.

The telegram arrived as they were finishing breakfast. Jack held his breath at the sight of the small, white envelope. He didn't have to open it to know its contents. They'd both been following the news about the War, but somehow, they'd never quite expected it to reach them.

He couldn't get out of it. He was young and healthy. He wasn't engaged in any vital work for the War effort. He didn't have dependents. They'd never consider Rose a good enough reason for him to stay. Plenty of other men had wives, many of them also had children. Why should he be special?

They didn't talk about it for three days. Neither of them knew what to say. They'd have to leave Los Angeles; that was clear. Jack was due to report for training in a month, and from there, he'd be sent to Europe. In a month, he'd be gone, possibly never to return.

...

"I think you should stay with your mother." Jack spoke into the darkness. "I think that'd be the best choice."

Rose didn't raise her head from its spot on his chest. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Since we found out."

She let out a breath. "You might be gone for years."

"I know. That's why I want you to stay with her," he said. "I don't want you to be alone."

"I'm not sure spending that much time with my mother will be any better," Rose replied. "You remember how strained our last visit was."

"Yeah, but I won't be there. You two can get to know each other again. And she was tense about her wedding last time. Things'll be more settled now."

"I'm losing you, and I have to move in with my mother? I can only hope Cal appears and proves it's all just a nightmare."

"I know this isn't easy," he said. He rubbed her back. "Rose, I don't want to go. Believe me. If there was some way I could get out of it, I would, but there's not."

"You're so optimistic," Rose said with a small laugh.

Jack chuckled. "Just doing my best."

"I know." They were silent for a moment. "Do you really want me to stay with them?" she asked.

"I really don't want you to be alone."

"Fine. I'll send her a telegram tomorrow," Rose said.

...

They would've preferred to have dinner alone, but Ruth made broaching the subject impossible. They resolved to excuse themselves as soon as possible.

"So, you're off tomorrow?" Herbert said.

"Yeah," Jack answered. He squeezed Rose's hand. "To training, and then to Europe, I guess."

"I suppose this will be rather different than the last time you were there," Herbert said. "It's a sad business."

"Can't say I'm looking forward to it." Jack laughed, but it was flat. He glanced at Rose. She stared down at their clasped hands. "But it won't be for long," he added. "A few months, maybe, and then I'll be back."

Rose offered him a small smile in response. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, ignoring Ruth's disapproving stare. "It'll be alright," he said, more to Rose than anyone else. "We just gotta get through it."

Rose put her other hand over his. Why were they even bothering with this? Her stomach was in knots. There was no way she would eat a bite. Therer was so little time left. They shouldn't be wasting any of it.

"I'm glad you've come to stay with us, Rose," Ruth said. "It wouldn't be good for you to be alone at a time like this."

"That's what I thought," Jack agreed. "I hated imagining Rose all on her own."

"Right you were," Hubert said. "She should be with her family at a time like this." He spoke warmly, and his smile reached his hazel eyes.

Rose knew little about her mother's new husband, aside from his solid financial and business interests, but he seemed to genuinely care for Ruth, and by extension, it appeared, herself as well. "Thank you," Rose said, with a smile. "I am glad to be here. I'm particularly glad I won't be coming home to an empty house tomorrow. I don't..." She trailed off with a shake of her head.

Jack kissed her again. "You'll be fine, Petal."

"Petal?" Ruth said quizzically.

"Rose Petal," Jack said. "You know, because she's a Rose."

"It's sort of a pet name Jack has for me," Rose explained.

Ruth tried not to sound judgemental, but she wasn't quite successful. "I see."

"We should go to bed soon," Rose said. "We'll have to get up rather early if we want to make it to the station on time." 

"We? Rose, you aren't going with him," Ruth said.

"No, but I'm going to see Jack off," Rose said. "I have to be there to say good-bye."

"Can't you say good-bye here, at the house?" Ruth asked. "A busy train station is no place for an unescorted lady of any age, but it's absolutely no place for a young one."

"I'll be fine," Rose insisted. "I wouldn't dream of staying home. I want every moment I can have with Jack."

"But Rose-" Ruth protested.

"Now, it's only natural she'd want to be there when he leaves," Hubert said amiably. "He's her husband, and he's going off to war. If you're that concerned," he added. "We can go along."

"No, that's not necessary," Rose said. "Thank you, but really, there's no need." She glanced at Jack.

"Rose'll be fine," he said. "She can take a taxi home."

"If she's determined, then fine," Ruth said with a sigh.

...

"I thought we'd never escape," Rose said, as soon as the bedroom door closed behind them. She locked it.

Jack laughed. "I think your mother can read minds. She did _not_ want to let us go."

"It certainly seems that way, doesn't it?" Rose laughed. "Or maybe she just doesn't want me to be alone with you," she added coyly.

He raised an eyebrow. "And why would that be?"

Rose moved toward him. "I don't know," she said. "We're a perfectly respectable, married couple." She wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands rested on her waist.

"Yes, we are," Jack agreed. His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips. He couldn't have drawn them any better. In fact, he often thought his best efforts paled in comparision. But perhaps, that was because no matter how well he drew, it would always be just some lines on paper; maybe nothing could ever compare to Rose herself.

"Some people would disagree, I suppose," she said.

"They're wrong."

Jack's lips brushed hers. Rose pressed him closer. "I can't think about tomorrow," she said.

"You don't hafta. It's still tonight." He kissed her, gently but deeply. "And it's still early," he added, sweeping her up into his arms.

Rose giggled. "Jack, are you carrying me all the way across the room?"

He kissed her again. "I'm carrying you to bed."

Rose's face was hot. Her heart beat faster. "Oh really?" she teased. "Tired already?"

Jack shook his head. "Not at all."

"And yet, here we are."

He lay her down. "And yet, here we are," he said, kissing her. "What will we do?"

"I can't imagine."

He grinned. "Maybe you should try."

"I _do_ have quite an imagination." Rose kissed his palm. "Perhaps I can think of something." She kissed his fingertips.

Jack let out a breath. "You seem to be doin pretty well so far."

"Do you think so?" Rose caressed his hand before kissing it again. "I've only just begun."

...

Jack expected their clothes to be shed quickly, but in fact, it was agonizingly slow. He lay on his back, gazing up at her. Nothing could have tempted him to move. Had anyone ever been so beautiful? Fiery curls glowed against her smooth, alabaster skin. Her blue eyes laughed at him, but her expression was serious. She moved slowly, dancing to a tune only she heard.

Jack groaned softly as another layer fell away, revealing her breasts. She didn't wear a corset. She hadn't since the sinking.

Rose paused, hands poised on the final garment. "You don't want me to take this off, do you Jack?" she asked, with a teasing grin.

He returned the grin. "You should know the answer to that."

"That's the problem," she replied. "I'm not sure." She stepped closer. "Maybe you could make be a little clearer?"

Jack crawled to the edge of the bed. "I can do that." He slowly stroked her belly, moving his hand up until he was cupping her breast.

"Well, that's certainly a statement," Rose said. "But I'm afraid it's not quite what I'm looking for."

"It's not, huh?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Well, then I guess I'll have to try harder."

Jack's arms encircled her waist. He nuzzled her belly. She ran her fingers through his hair. He kissed his way to her throat. She gasped as his teeth lightly scraped her neck. "How's that?" he murmured.

"You're getting closer."

He kissed her deeply, pulling her down with him. "I want you, Rose," he whispered. He guided her hand down his body, groaning when he fingers closed around his hardness.

"Jack," she breathed.

He rolled her onto her back. "I want to see you," he said. His blue eyes were dark with need. He slipped the skirt over her legs and tossed it aside. He bent down and kissed her belly, slowly moving his lips to her thighs. His hands roamed eagerly over her body. "You're so beautiful, Rose."

"Jack, you always say that," she laughed.

"It's always true."

Gently, he parted her legs. He kissed her thighs, breathing in the sweet scent of her. He knew every inch of her; he knew how to touch her, how to turn her soft sighs into moans. He knew how to make her tremble, how to completely take her apart and put her back together again. He could do it all without even being inside her.

Her fingers curled in his hair. "Jack."

He looked up at her. "Do you want me not to?"

"It's our last night. I don't want you thinking you have to," Rose said.

"I want to, Rose." He lowered his head again. Her back arched. She gasped as his mouth made contact. "Kiss me, Jack," she whispered.

...

Morning would eventually insist on coming, but until then, they refused to think about it. Jack kissed the space between her breasts, reveling in her softness. She was everywhere. She was everything. His hands caressed her just like always, only this time they were trying to create an imprint, something deeper than just a memory.

When would he touch her again? When would he taste her like this again? How long until their bodies moved in the same rhythm, tangled up in each other, ascending to ever higher pleasures? Jack didn't want to think about it, but as the blue dawn crept into their room, he couldn't stop himself.

Still, they kept going, heedless of the time. Rose held him tightly, rolling them over so she was looking down into his eyes. Her curls fell around her face, damp from exertion. "You alright?" he asked.

She nodded. "Fine." She kissed him as her hips began to move again. He held her waist, steadying her. "Rose," he groaned. "My sweet, perfect Rose Petal."

Rose kissed him hungrily. "Jack," she moaned. She was close. How many times had this happened already? Rose had lost count early on.

"Don't fight it, Petal."

"Jack."

Jack felt her tense. "Let go, Rose. Let it happen."

Rose threw her head back as the wave broke within her. Jack's hands were steady, keeping their rhythm. She pressed her hands over his. "Jack," she cried.

He would try to draw that moment later, when he was far away and alone, but it wouldn't compare. It couldn't possibly. Nothing could ever compare to the sight of Rose, consumed by bliss.

...

They ran through the crowded station. "This way," Jack said, spying the platform. Rose followed, matching his pace in spite of herself. She knew trying to slow him down would be useless, and it would likely make things worse for him.

"Here we are," he said.

Good-byes were being said all around them. There wasn't a single man not in uniform. They all carried a small rucksack or bag. Some had lunch tins, while others had opted for simply wrapping their food in a clean cloth.

"You didn't bring anything to eat," Rose said. It sounded silly, but worrying about him being hungry during the journey was far preferable to facing his departure.

Jack shrugged. "It's alright. I've gone longer without food." He wrapped his arms around her, holding her closer. "Don't worry," he said, kissing her. "Everything's gonna be fine."

Rose fought the urge to cling to him. Instead, she settled for smoothing his shirt. "Of course it will," she said, hoping her voice was even,

"I love you, Rose." He kissed her again, more deeply this time. She pressed her hands against the back of his neck. "I love you, Jack," she whispered.

They held each other until the train began moving. With one last kiss, Jack jumped onboard. He leaned through the door, one hand gripping the door hand, the other still in hers. Rose ran alongside the train until she couldn't keep up. Jack squeezed her fingers before letting go, and then, before either of them were ready, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

When Jack awoke he saw green fields speeding past. The sky was clear, and the sun was high, so he guessed it was around noon. He didn't remember much after finding a seat, which meant he'd probably fallen asleep pretty quickly. He stretched, his long legs cramped from being in the same position for so long. Around him, men dozed or stared out the window. Some played cards. A few read. Aside from the lack of women and children, it could've been any of the train journeys he'd taken in the past.

He could've been setting off for somewhere new, just following the wind, eager for the next adventure, carrying on what he needed. In the past, he would've sketched the scenes unfolding in the train car.

But not now. He didn't feel like drawing. This wasn't just some adventure. He wasn't here by choice. He wouldn't be anywhere by choice for a long time. Maybe not ever again.

His heart clenched. Rose flashed before his eyes. What was she doing at that moment? Was she having lunch with her mother? Was she keeping herself busy so she wouldn't think too much about his absence?

Jack hoped so.

...

In fact, Rose wasn't doing much of anything. She'd gone straight to bed as soon as she arrived back home, and she hadn't gotten up since. Ruth sent a maid up to check on her, but the girl reported that Mrs. Dawson-Ruth couldn't help shuddering inwardly at the name-wished not to be disturbed, and that was that for a while.

Now, however, it was nearly tea time, and Ruth decided things had gone far enough. Jack wasn't dead. He wasn't even out of the country yet. There was nothing to worry about, and even if there were, lying around in bed all day would only make things worse.

She knocked briskly. "Rose?"

Silence. She knocked again. "Rose, it's your mother."

She heard a shuffling, and the door swung open, revealing a sleep-eyed Rose. Her curls were flat on one side, and she wore a blue men's shirt and little else. Ruth's eyes widened, but she recovered quickly. "Rose, are you not feeling well?"

"I'm fine, Mother. I'm just tired."

"Yes, I'm sure you didn't get much sleep last night," Ruth said. She realized her mistake as soon as the words left her mouth. Never would she have willingly made such an implication, but fortunately, Rose didn't seem to notice her blunder.

"We didn't sleep," Rose replied. "It seemed like such a waste of time."

"Well, if you've nothing to do this afternoon, would you care to accompany me to tea?"

"Oh, I wasn't planning to-" Rose began.

"I'd be quite pleased if you did. And it's not healthy for you to sit up here by yourself like this."

"But I'd like to be-"

Ruth cut her off again. "Alone is the last thing you need to be at a time like this," she said. "Have a quick bath and get dressed. You'll feel much better once you do."

Rose opened her mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Why bother? Her mother wouldn't give up until she got her way, and perhaps she was right. It might be good to get out of the house for a few hours. Jack would certainly want her to do something besides sit in the dark feeling sad.

"Alright," Rose said. "I'll get ready."

...

Jack's stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten since dinner the night before. He hadn't even thought about breakfast; his mind was too full of his impending departure and separation from Rose. She hadn't suggested they take the time to eat anything either.

He'd genuinely forgotten to pack any food for the trip, but that hadn't seemed like an issue at first. He'd gone hungry before; he could do it again. So it had been a few years. So what? It was one of those skills you never lost.

Unfortunately, he was discovering, that might not be the case.

"Can I sit here?"

Jack looked up. The question came from a stocky young man. He had wavy, brown hair and green eyes. He wore a pleasant expression. "Sure." Jack moved his bag to the floor, making room.

"Thanks. I'm Percy Winthrop."

"Jack Dawson."

They shook hands and settled in. Jack took his sketchbook out of his bag, hoping he'd be inspired eventually. Drawing would certainly take his mind off his stomach.

"Are you an artist?" Percy asked.

"Yeah. Sort of."

"Well, you either are or you aren't."

Jack chuckled. "You've got me there. I'm not really a professional," he explained. "I don't make a lotta money with it, or even any at all sometimes."

"I've never made a lot of money at anything, so who am I to judge?"

Jack laughed fully this time. "That's one way of lookin at it."

"So, how do you look at all _this_?"

"What? You mean the War?"

Percy nodded. "Or, more specifically, our getting sent off to fight in it."

"I don't want to go," Jack replied. "But who does?"

"Plenty of fellows want to go. Lotsa them volunteered."

"Are you one of those?"

"Me?" Percy shook his head. "No. I'm afraid I'm one of those poor bastards who had to be forced into it."

"Just like me," Jack said wryly.

"I don't really believe in it you know. War. Killing. I just don't think it's ever right," Percy said. "It doesn't solve anything."

"It's not something I think about much, but I don't completely disagree."

"You married?"

Jack smiled. "Yeah."

"How long?"

"Almost five years."

"That's a long time. You're lucky," Percy said. "I was supposed to get married last month, but then I got my notice, and my fiancee wanted to wait." He sighed. "Now we might never see each other again."

"You can't think like that."

"How do I not? It's a War."

"You've gotta focus on the future," Jack said.

It sounded trite even to him, but what else could he say? Admitting out loud that neither of them might have a future wasn't an option.

"I've got a deck of cards," Percy said. "Care to play?"

"Sure. Sounds good."

…..

Ruth began giving her instructions as soon as they got in the car. It was all fairly standard, and Rose was slightly amused by her mother's apparent belief that she'd forgotten how to behave in public. Did she think five years with Jack had completely undone over a decade of training?

"Now, Mrs. Tate is the hostess," Ruth reminded her. "She's one of my closest friends and a pillar of Harrisburg society."

Rose nodded. "Yes, you've told me."

"Miss Williams is her niece," Ruth continued, ignoring her. "She had her coming out a few years ago. No marriage prospects yet. It's quite unfortunate. Her parents have decided to send her to a university in hopes of increasing her chances."

Rose barely contained her laughter. "How awful."

"I know you don't think these things matter, Rose, but they do. How is a woman supposed to survive without a suitable husband?"

"Well, she could support herself."

Ruth gave her a pained look. "I'd rather you didn't say such things this afternoon."

"I promise not to scandalize your friends," Rose said as the car stopped in front of an imposing, Victorian manor.

"I implore you not to."

There was genuine anxiety in her mother's eyes. Rose's voice softened. "I won't."

"Thank you. I've worked very hard to make these friends, and I don't want to lose them."

"I understand," Rose said. "Shall we go inside?"

….

Mrs. Sophia Tate was nothing like Rose expected. She'd imagined a more imposing version of Ruth, but the woman seated before her was warm and cheerful. Her dark hair was beginning to grey at the temples, and she wore it in a simple twist. Her clothes were obviously expensive but not overly adorned.

Her niece, Elinor Williams, sat to her right, opposite Ruth. Elinor was 18, which Rose thought was rather young for so many people to be despairing over her marriage prospects. Then again, Cal had proposed just days before she turned 17, and no-one batted an eye.

Next to Elinor was her mother, Audrina. She bore a striking resemblance to her sister, though their coloring was different.

Mrs. Victoria Prynne sat opposite Rose. She was in her early twenties as far as Rose could tell. A small, birdlike woman, she gave off an air of gentleness, though her laugh was hearty and infectious. Rose liked her immediately. Ruth, she sensed, didn't entirely approve of her.

"I'm so pleased we're such a small party today," Sophia said. "It gives me a chance to get to know you, Rose."

Rose smiled. "It's very kind of you to take an interest."

"Nonsense. Of course I'm all are," Sophia replied. "Your mother's a bit reticent when it comes to her personal affairs, and that includes you."

It figured that Ruth refused to talk about her. Doing so would mean telling them about Jack, and eventually, having to explain the whole mess with Cal.

"My mother has always been very private," Rose said politely.

"Tell us about yourself," Sophia commanded. "Unless you're also a private person?"

"Oh, I'm afraid there isn't much to tell."

"Of course there is," Sophia pressed. "Where do you live? What does your husband do?"

"My husband is an artist. He makes his living in other ways as well. As far as where we live, there isn't really an answer for that," Rose explained. "We travel often."

"For your own amusement?" Elinor asked.

"I suppose you could say that. We both love exploring new places," Rose replied. "Travel is such an adventure, and we believe that's how life should be." Her eyes lit up as she spoke, and her smile deepened. Just talking about their life together made Jack feel closer.

"That's certainly a novel way of looking at things," Sophia said, not unkindly. "Perhaps you'd be willing to tell us more?"

"Where shall I begin?"

…

"You win again," Percy said, throwing down his cards. "Where'd you get all this luck?"

Jack gathered the cards and shuffled them. "I've always been good at cards," he replied with a shrug. "I do get lucky now and then."

"I'm glad we're not playing for money."

Jack laughed. "We always could, you know."

Percy shook his head. "No, thanks. I'd like for the Army to pay me first before I go throwing it all away."

"'Cause they're gonna pay us so much."

"You've got a point there," Percy said.

Jack dealt the cards. "You know, I met my wife because of a lucky hand of poker."

"Really? How'd that happen?"

"You remember the _Titanic_?"

"Who doesn't?" Percy said. "That grand, unsinkable ship, and the horrible tragedy that followed."

"You could write a book."

"It was a newspaper headline," Percy said, grinning.

"Well, anyway, I won a ticket right before it left Southampton. Me and my friend…" Jack trailed off as he realized it was the first time he'd told anyone about Fabrizo. He'd talked about him with Rose, and in the days after the sinking they'd tried desperately to find him, but they never did. As far as Jack knew, he'd perished that night.

A sharp pang of guilt cut through him. It was his fault. He'd won the tickets. His own voice, overjoyed at their good fortune, echoed in his ears. _"We're the luckiest sonsabitches in the world, you know that?"_

Except, as it turned out, only one of them was. He'd not only survived, but he'd found Rose.

What if his luck had finally run out? What if he'd managed to make it through that night, but the last five years were borrowed time, and now it was up?

"Yeah?" Percy prompted.

"Oh. Um. Where was I?" Jack said. "Yeah, we won tickets, and that's where I met my wife."

"It's amazing you both survived."

Jack lowered his gaze to his cards, but he didn't see them. Instead, he saw the winning hand from that long ago day. "You could say that."

…

"We spent our first Christmas in Vermont," Rose said. "Actually, we _had_ to spend it there because of the snow. There was a terrible storm, and we couldn't leave our cabin for three days. Finally, it ended, and we could see where we were going again. By that time, however, the snow was up to our waists, and we had to climb out through a window."

"That sounds inconvenient," Elinor said.

"Oh, it was, but we didn't mind," Rose replied. "Everything was so beautiful. How could we mind a few inconveniences?" Her smile turned wistful. "Jack tried painting it a few times, but as much as he enjoys landscapes, they aren't his forte."

"Being married to an artist and traveling must be exciting," Victoria said. "I could never do it. I need my routines too much."

"You can still have them," Rose said. "They're just a little different. After a few days, each new place stops feeling foreign, and you settle into a routine."

"My dear, I'm glad you agreed to come today," Sophia said. To Ruth she added, "Your daughter is delightful. I wish we could've met her sooner."

Ruth smiled graciously. "Yes, Rose is quite special."

Rose had always believed her mother loved her, even though she'd often doubted her judgment when it came to what was best for her, but Ruth wasn't a demonstrative woman. She seldom gave praise, and if she'd ever spoke favorably of her to others, Rose hadn't heard it. In fact, in the old days she'd often spoken about Rose as if she weren't even there.

"Do you have a photo of him?" Clarissa asked.

"Yes, actually, I do," Rose said, reaching into her purse. "I have several."

She took out three photographs. The first was from their wedding. It had been a simple ceremony at New York City Hall, just a few weeks after they arrived. It was only by chance that they had the picture. A photographer had been there, applying for a license of some sort, and he just happened to also have his camera with him. In it, they gazed at one another, completely oblivious to everything going on around them.

The next one was taken during their first trip to Los Angeles. They were on horseback, "right in the surf", exactly as Jack described it. Rose sat in front, reins in hand, Jack's arms around her. Much to Ruth's horror, she wore trousers and sat astride. They both beamed into the camera.

The last one was from just a few days before they headed back East. This time they were on the Santa Monica Pier. They'd just ridden the roller coaster five times, and neither of them had thrown up, a fact Rose was both proud of and relieved by. She leaned against him, their arms around each other, and once again they faced away from the camera, concerned only with each other.

"He's very handsome," Elinor said admiringly.

"Indeed he is. You make a lovely couple," Clarissa agreed.

"If I weren't already happily married, I'd be smitten with him," Victoria said.

"Ruth, why didn't you tell us you had such a dashing son-in-law?" Sophia asked.

Ruth froze. What could she possibly say to that? She'd only spoken about Jack when absolutely necessary, and even then her answers were short and to the point. "I suppose it never seemed relevant," she said. "As long as he takes good care of Rose, I hardly care what he looks like."

Rose was taken aback by Ruth's comment. Was she actually speaking positively about Jack? And to her friends? She realized social pressure was mostly to blame, but it was still a bit surreal to witness. If only Jack were there to see it with her.

Rose's throat tightened. How far away was he now? He smiled up at her from the photos. Being able to see his face was a small comfort, though it could hardly make up for the physical lack of him.

But she couldn't think about that now. Jack wouldn't want her to dwell on his absence. The least she could do was focus on the situation at hand.

…..

"Well, what do you think?" Ruth asked as they climbed out of the car. They'd ridden home in near silence, both preoccupied with their own thoughts.

"I had a nice time. They're lovely women."

"And they certainly liked you, but of course they would." Ruth smiled proudly. "You were always good in social situations. Aside from a few unfortunate incidents," she added.

Rose held in a laugh, knowing exactly the "incidents" Ruth was thinking of. "It's easier when I like the people."

"Perhaps you'll join us regularly," Ruth suggested. "After all, you'll be here for a while. You should have friends. You need things to occupy your time."

"You're right."

"I am?" Ruth said, surprised.

Rose nodded. "I do need to keep myself busy. Victoria mentioned something about working for the War Effort. I think I'll look into that."

"Oh Rose, you can't be-" Her words became a yelp of fear as a dog bounded up to them. He was medium sized, though he still had the air of a puppy. His shaggy fur was a golden, sandy color. He grinned up at Rose with bright blue eyes.

"Why would someone let their dog roam free like this?" Ruth cried, shrinking back.

"He doesn't have a collar. I think he's a stray."

Rose knelt down and scratched behind his ears. "You like that, don't you boy?"

"Rose, don't touch it! You don't know where it's been!"

"He's a little dirty, but I don't think there's anything wrong with him," Rose said. "He might be hungry."

"You're not going to feed him. It will only encourage him to keep coming around here."

There was something strangely familiar about this dog. Rose told herself it was just his blue eyes and sandy fur, which were only coincidences. Many dogs looked just like this one. And yet, she couldn't shake the sense that something more was happening. "I'm keeping him," she said firmly.

AN: Thanks to everyone who's read this so far!


	3. Chapter 3

Ruth stared at her. "Rose, you can't be serious."

"Of course I'm serious." Rose stood up, petting the dog. He grinned up at her, tail wagging. "I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't."

"Rose, this creature is filthy. You have no idea where it's been. It probably has fleas. Or diseases. Distemper."

Rose glanced down at the dog. "He's not scratching, and he seems perfectly sweet. He needs a bath, of course, but that's easily remedied."

Ruth felt herself growing anxious. "What if it already has a home?"

Rose laughed. "I think it's rather obvious he doesn't."

"But Rose, why this dog? If you truly want one, we can find you a nice, well-bred dog. With papers and proper behavior training."

Rose laughed again. The irony of the situation was almost too much. Here she was, fighting for a sweet, yet scruffy stray dog, while her mother desperately pleaded with her to accept a well-bred model instead. "I've never even thought about getting a dog until just now," she said. "But this feels right. I think we're supposed to be together."

Ruth pursued her lips. "And on what, exactly, do you base this conviction?"

Rose shrugged. "It's just a feeling I have. I trust it."

…..

"How much longer, d'you think?" Percy asked.

Jack shrugged. "I've never made this trip. I'd say a few more hours, maybe."

Percy dealt the cards. "I hope we get there soon. I hate trains."

"Really?" Jack said, surprised. "Why?"

"I'm not much of a traveler. I don't see the appeal of being stuck in a small space with strangers for hours on end. Present company excluded, of course," he added.

Jack laughed. "Of course." His phrasing reminded him of Rose, and he felt a pang. It hadn't even been a full day, and he already missed her. How could he possibly handle being gone for months, maybe even years?

"I sound spoiled, don't I?" Percy asked.

"Maybe a little," Jack agreed, with a grin. "But I don't mind."

"I'm sure you love spoiled rich kids. Everyone does."

"I've got a soft spot for a few," Jack replied. He pictured Rose. What was she doing at that moment? Was she with her mother? Had they gone out somewhere? He hoped she wasn't alone.

"You know, I actually believe you," Percy said. He lay down his cards. "Alright. Let's see them."

…

"I don't want that filthy thing in the house," Ruth said sternly. "Rose, I mean it."

"I'll take him around the back and give him a bath there. He'll be pristine when he comes inside."

"Bath or not, he's still a dog, and he belongs outside."

Rose sighed. "Mother, can't you compromise a little? Meet me halfway on this?"

Ruth's features softened. The dog gazed up at her with soft, loving eyes. She'd never seen eyes that blue, aside from Jack's. And then it hit her. Jack. Of course. "We'll see how clean you manage to get him," she said. "But Rose, do change first. There's no need to ruin your nice clothes."

"Of course I'll change." Rose scratched behind the dog's ears. "Come on, Monet. Let's get you a nice bath."

…..

Monet was clean, but he was still just as scruffy, especially to Ruth. She didn't care that his golden coat was soft and silky, or that his paws held no trace of his former life outdoors. Not even his sparkling blue eyes and most endearing grin could win her approval.

"Rose, _must_ you bring that dog inside?"

"Yes, I _must_." Rose set down a bowl of water. "Here, boy," she said, kneeling next to it. She smiled when he drank. "Besides, he doesn;t have a collar or a license. He might be mistaken for a stray if I leave him outside."

"He _is_ a stray," Ruth argued.

"Not anymore."

"Are you absolutely certain this isn't just a phase of some sort?"

Rose gave her a look. "And what sort of phase would it be?"

"Perhaps it's a reaction to not having children? With your husband away, it might be-"

Rose frowned. "Jack and I are perfectly happy with the way things are," she said evenly. "We've discussed having children, and we both agreed it's something we want, and we'll do it when the time is right."

"Rose, you can't control these things. Unless you avoid…" Ruth trailed off, suddenly aware of what she'd stumbled into. How had this happened? All she'd meant to do was caution Rose against growing too attached to a stray dog.

Rose stifled a giggle. Was her mother actually trying to have this conversation with her? Had Ruth nearly spoken about sex?

"There are ways to control it," Rose said. "They aren't foolproof, but some of them work quite well." She glanced up and found Ruth blushing furiously. Another giggle threatened to escape. It shouldn't have been funny. Her mother was obviously deeply uncomfortable, and wasn't it rather unfortunate that a grown woman couldn't bring herself to discuss these things? That she'd been married twice and still had little or no real knowledge about her own body, let alone lovemaking?

Ruth was at a loss for words. "I suppose that's something _he_ taught you."

"Not entirely." Rose stood up. "Jack had heard some things, but he was hardly an expert on contraception."

"Which means he may have children who will appear someday."

Rose frowned. She let out a slow breath. "I doubt that."

"Rose, you must admit there's a possibility. He's a _man_. He wandered aimlessly for years, doing Heaven only knows what. You have only his word as proof of what he's told you."

"I trust him. I have no reason not to. That should be enough."

"Rose, didn't it ever occur to you that-"

"I know he had lovers in the past." Rose spoke calmly. "We've discussed that. He's never avoided any questions I had. As far as he knows, he has no children, and I believe him."

"You're a very trusting woman." Ruth sighed. "Too trusting, maybe."

"I don't trust everyone blindly. I trust _Jack_," Rose replied. "There's a difference."

"Even so."

"And furthermore, I-" Rose cut herself off, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks. She was about to go too far, and that was the last thing either of them wanted.

"What were you going to say?" Ruth asked, fearful of the answer. "He doesn't make you do anything..._unusual_, does he? He hasn't-"

"No, of course not. Jack would never try to force me into anything. He's completely respectful."

"Rose, you may not realize if something's wrong. If he-"

Rose shook her head. "He's never hurt me. He wouldn't. I enjoy everything we do together. Please, let's leave it at that."

Ruth was relieved to let the matter drop, though she was still concerned. What was Rose leaving unsaid? She had absolutely no desire to know what went on between them, but she wanted to be sure it was the proper sort of activities for a respectable married couple. If only Rose had married someone with a good background, or _any_ background for that matter. Someone with a family that could be assessed.

…

At last they'd arrived. Jack jumped from the train the moment permission was given. His long legs tingled, grateful for the freedom. He swung his bag over his shoulder and looked around. It was earlier than he'd thought, and the base was bustling with activity.

Recruits were everywhere, most in uniform, but a few still wore civilian clothes. He saw men with clipboards. They all looked terribly efficient.

"We made it," Percy said.

"Yeah, looks like it."

….

The next few hours were a blur. He was given a uniform and everything that went with it, assigned to a bunk, and found himself being herded into a mess hall for dinner.

He sat at a table with three other men. Two of them looked more like kids than grown men. In Jack's estimation they couldn't be older than 18, and he wondered if they'd lied about their ages so they could enlist.

The other occupant seemed to be closer to his own age. The kids were clean shaven, with round, baby faces, but this man sported a thick, dark beard. His hazel eyes were friendly, and he nodded at Jack. "Just get in?"

"Yeah." Jack returned the nod. "Couple hours ago. How about you?"

"I got here a few days ago." He held out a large hand. "I'm Clifford. You can call me Cliff."

Jack shook it. "Good to meet you. Jack Dawson."

"I'm Ryan," one of the kids, the taller of the two, said. "And this is my cousin, Stephen."

"Good to meet you," Jack replied. He settled back into his chair and looked down at his food. It wasn't inedible by any means, but it was hardly appetizing. If he hadn't been so hungry, he might have considered waiting for breakfast.

"I hope the food's better at the front," Stephen said.

"You think we'll have food?" Jack joked.

Cliff chuckled. "It's not so bad here. At least it's hot and fresh. From what I hear, neither's guaranteed over there."

"I doubt anything's guaranteed over there," Jack said.

"You're probably right," Cliff agreed.

"The War'll be over in a few months," Ryan predicted. "As soon as they send enough of us over."

"You really think so?" Jack said.

"Of course," Stephen chimed in. "We're part of the finest army in the world. We'll take care of the Germans in a few weeks and be back home before anyone can even miss us." His eyes shone with anticipation.

Cliff shook his head. "We'll see about that."

"You don't think the War will be over soon?" Ryan asked.

"No reason to think so," Cliff replied with a shrug.

Ryan turned to Jack. "What do you think?"

"I hope so," Jack said thoughtfully. "I want to get back home to my wife, but...we've gotta be realistic. It's already been going on for a few years. Who's to say how much longer it will take?"

The younger men chewed slowly, sobered by this. Jack finished everything on his tray but tasted none of it.

…

A newly clean Money pranced around the sitting room, tail wagging. Rose sat on the floor, her legs tucked beneath her. "Here boy!" she called.

Grinning, he ran to her. She giggled as he licked her face. "You're rather affectionate, aren't you?"

"Rose, what are you going?" Ruth cried, eyes wide with horror. "Why are you sitting on the floor? Don't let that creature drool all over you! You have no idea what kind of germs it's carrying!"

Rose sighed. "Mother, he's perfectly clean. I just bathed him. And he's not a creature. He's my dog."

"He's not a proper dog."

Rose scratched behind his ears. "He's an excellent dog. I think he'll make a wonderful companion."

"For some young ruffian, perhaps."

Rose smiled. "Then it's a good thing I married Jack."

"That's not what I meant," Ruth said.

"I know." There was no anger in her voice. "But it's what you think of him."

"Rose, I can't pretend to approve of your choices."

"I understand," Rose said. Monet rested his head on her lap. "We all have a right to our own feelings, but can't you give a little? After all this time? Things have turned out well. Jack and I are happy together. _You're_ happy. Do you honestly think our lives would have gone any better if I hadn't married him?"

"I don't know how to answer that."

Rose nodded. "That's fair. I can answer it, however, for myself at least. No, it wouldn't have been better. If I'd lost Jack, that would have been one thing. I would have found a way to go on and be happy without him, but if I'd married someone else instead...I would've been miserable. I don't know if I would have survived."

"All because of one man? Rose, he's just a man."

"I love him," Rose said. "But it isn't just him. It's the life I have with him, the freedom, the things he offers me."

"I don't understand why he makes you so happy. I'll admit he's a good man." Ruth looked slightly pained. "From what I've seen," she added. "But I don't understand what's so extraordinary about him that you were willing to give up everything."

Rose smiled as she scratched behind Monet' ears. "I can't make you understand."

….

"Jack, you comin?"

Jack glanced toward the voice. A half-finished letter to Rose sat on his lap. Percy leaned in the doorway, watching him expectantly. "Where?" he asked.

"I don't remember the name of the place. Some dance hall," Percy replied. "Some of the other guys are going."

"Don't you have a fiancee?" Jack said, amused by the younger man's enthusiasm.

"That doesn't mean I can't have a good time. There's nothing wrong with a little dancing."

"Is that what you're so excited about?"

Percy shrugged. "I'm just trying to make the best of this. I hate being here, and I'd go home right now if I could, but since I can't, I may as well enjoy myself when I can. There's no point in being miserable all the time."

"Makes sense." Jack glanced back at the letter. He could finish it later. "Yeah, I'll come along."

…..

It was a small place, more of a converted warehouse than a proper dance hall, but no-one seemed to mind. The air was thick with smoke and laughter and the heat of bodies. A band played on a low stage at the other end of the room, but Jack didn't know any of the songs.

He chose a seat in the corner where he could observe everything going on around him. Ryan took the chair opposite him. Cliff joined them, beers in hand. "Here ya go, boys," he said jovially.

"Aren't there rules about curfews and drinking?" Jack laughed.

"There's rules about a lotta things," Cliff replied.

Jack laughed again and took a drink. The beer was fresh and cold. He relaxed. His right hand flexed, closing around an imaginary pencil, and he was glad he'd brought his sketchbook.

"You gonna dance?" Ryan asked.

"Me?" Jack shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know."

"Stepehn's already found himself a girl," Cliff said.

They all looked across the room to see Stephen laughing with a brunette woman.

"So has Percy," Jack said.

"I've never seen so many pretty girls in one place," Ryan said, overwhelmed.

"You should see the girls in Paris," Jack laughed.

"Why?" Ryan said.

Jack shook his head. "Never mind."

His companions eventually wandered off. Jack slowly sipped his beer, content to observe the party going on around him. Rose would've loved it. He would've swept her off to the dance floor, and they'd dance all night. As long as they kept dancing, she never got tired.

They'd watched so many sunrises on the way home for dances and parties. He smiled to himself as he remembered. His arm around her waist, her head on his shoulder. She always refused his offer to carry her.

They'd eat breakfast and fall into bed to sleep through the rest of the morning, waking up to make love in the afternoon.

A lump filled his throat. It was like a piece of his body was missing. They had never slept apart. He had no-one to hold. How could he sleep without her warmth next to him?

No wonder the other guys wanted to dance so badly. Being close to someone, even a stranger, had to be better than sitting alone and missing the person you loved.

Jack saw the flash of red out of the corner of his eye. _Rose_. But no, it couldn't be. This girl did resemble her, though her hair was straight and not quite as vibrantly red. He watched her a moment and then began sketching.

…

"Have you been sitting here drawing all night?" Stephen asked. He took a seat, followed by Percy.

Jack just nodded, intent on his drawing.

"She's pretty," Percy said. "Is she your wife?"

"She's that girl over there," Jack said, nodding toward her. "She reminds me of her."

"Why don't you ask her to dance then?" Stephen suggested.

Jack shook his head. "It wouldn't feel right."

"She's awfully pretty," Percy said. "You sure you're not tempted?"

"Nope." Jack blew across the paper. "Done."

They chuckled at his answer. All men, they believed, were tempted at some point or another, even if they didn't admit or act on it. They watched Jack approach her.

"Excuse me, miss?" he said.

She smiled. "Yes?" Her heart fluttered at the thought of dancing with him. A stray lock of golden hair fell over his blue eyes. He grinned and somehow became even more dashing.

"I noticed you, and well…" Jack held out the drawing. "I'm an artist, and I like to draw whatever's going on around me. I wanted you to have it."

Her eyes widened. "Oh!" she gasped. "Thank you. It's beautiful. I don't know what to say."

"You're welcome, miss." He gave her a polite nod and left.

She watched him go. Maybe she'd see him again? Maybe next time they'd dance? That night, she hung the drawing by her bed and dreamed of him, already half in love.


	4. Chapter 4

_Dear Jack, _

_It feels as if you've been gone for much longer than two weeks. I miss you, cherie. I want these letters to be cheerful. You have enough to worry about as it is, but I can't pretend your absence doesn't make my heart ache. _

_Don't dwell on that. Please. Don't feel guilty. I can't stop you from missing me, and if I'm being honest, I'm not sure I'd want to. I know it's selfish of me, but don't we all want to be missed by those we love?_

_Still, I want you to be as happy as possible, Jack. Take that indefatigable optimism and good humor and make the most of ever day, just like you always have. Please find as much joy as you can. If not for your own sake, then for mine. _

_Nothing has changed here. Mother keeps taking me to tea with her friends. They're perfectly nice woman. In fact, I rather like a few of them. They're not at all what I expected. This group is a far cry from the one she associated with before, and I don't think that's bad thing. _

_They talk about the War constantly. Everyone knows someone who's gone or who is going soon. It's nice to be among people who understand how I feel. Mother tries, but she still can't understand how much or even why I love you. It remains an unfathomable mystery to her. _

_She hasn't given up trying to convince me to trade Monet for a "proper dog." Barring that, she'd like me to leave him outside, but I refuse. You'd love him, Jack. I know I've already said that several times, but you truly would. He's mastered all of the commands I've taught him, and he's been such a comfort to me. _

_Don't worry; he isn't going to take your place, cherie. No-one ever could. I love you so much, Jack. Don't ever forget that, no matter what happens. _

_Love, Rose_

_Dear Rose,_

_This letter's thicker than usual because I included some drawings. I'm sorry I had to fold them, but I wanted to make sure you got them, and no-one seems to have any idea how to send a bigger envelope, short of just adding more stamps. I don't trust that. _

_It's not exciting here at all. We do the same things ever day. And every day more and more guys arrive. They're all starting to blur together. I'm always surrounded by people, even in the showers, but I'm still alone because none of them are the only person I want to see. _

_However much I thought I'd miss you, Petal, it doesn't compare to the way I feel. I reach for you every night, and in the morning, before I open my eyes, I think you're next to me. _

_It's not all bad, though. I have a little time to draw at night, and if I wake up early I get to see the sun rise in silence. The land around us is beautiful. It's too bad I don't do landscapes, huh?_

_I want to mail this today, and there's not much time left. I'll write again as soon as I can. I got one of your letters today, and I'm saving it to read before I fall asleep tonight. _

_I love you, Rose Petal. _

_Jack_

Rose put the letter down with a sigh. Reading Jack's letters usually made him feel closer. They were a reminder that he was still out there, and he would eventually return, but at that moment, the sight of his familiar scrawl, the confident _J_ in his signature evoking his grin, only made her feel more alone.

Monet pressed his nose into her hand. She smiled. "At least I have you," she said, scratching behind his ears. His tail wagged. "You'll never get called off to war, will you?" He rested his chin on her lap and looked up at her with curious eyes. She smoothed the letter and placed it back in its envelope. The drawings were already spread across the table.

There were three of them, each depicting a different scene from the training camp. Jack wasn't in any of them. She hadn't expected him to be; he rarely drew himself, and yet, Rose wished he was. They had only taken a few photos together during the past five years. She didn't have any of Jack by himself.

She sighed again. "What now?"

The morning stretched before her, long and empty. She was attending another tea with Ruth and her friends that afternoon, but until then, Rose was on her own. At first she'd been elated when when her mother announced she would be spending the first half of the day in the back sitting room, organizing correspondence and invitations. Finally, she thought, a few hours of peace and solitude during the day!

But it was still barely ten o'clock, and she had already read Jack's latest letter, replied to it, reread all of his letters in order, bathed and dressed, and walked Monet. At this rate, she would be climbing the walls by noon.

Rose paced the room. It was larger than their usual accommodations. There was far too much space for one person, though she had to admit, it was smaller than her room in her family's previous house.

They'd brought everything they owned with them. While traveling it had seemed like a great deal, but now, she saw it actually consisted of very little. She usually found books at whatever library was near, so she only owned a handful of her favorites, and those had been read so many times she practically knew them by heart.

They each had a bag for their clothes, and then there was Jack's art supplies, a sewing kit, her purse, a few cosmetics, a bottle of perfume, and some hair care supplies. Their entire life could be packed up and carried off by one person. Rose had always loved how easily they moved through the world, how unencumbered they were, but without Jack by her side, it was starting to feel as if none of it had ever happened.

They had no long-time friends or neighbors, no ties to any one place. If Jack never came back from the War, she would be the only one who remembered him.

Tears stung her eyes. Rose shook her head. "There's no use sitting around and feeling sad," she scolded herself. "I'll simply have to find a way to occupy my time."

….

Rose took a deep breath as she stepped out into the sunshine. Yes, this was exactly what she needed. A little fresh air and exercise would certainly do her good.

Monet walked beside her, content to be led to whatever destination she had in mind. He'd taken to the leash better than she expected, and it was only his scruffy appearance that gave away his origins as a stray.

"The library shouldn't be difficult to find," she said. "Mother said it was only a few streets over."

It was unusually warm, more like summer than autumn, and Rose's spirits lifted as she walked. She just had to focus and keep busy. No sitting around and moping. It wouldn't bring him home any faster. It wouldn't do anything but make her more miserable than she had to be.

Ruth's neighborhood could most accurately be described as upper middle class, verging on the lower rungs of upper class. All of the houses were set far back from the street, with wrought iron fences and hedges protecting them from outsiders. The sidewalks were always swept clean, and anything out of the ordinary was immediately noticed and dealt with.

It was a perfectly respectable, pleasant neighborhood, and Rose knew she should be glad that not only did her mother get to live there, but that she was able to as well.

And yet, all Rose felt as she looked at the perfectly manicured lawns and demurely painted houses, was stifled. Everything was exactly the same, just on a smaller scale. She could tell each house apart, but that's where the differences ended. They all contained the same kinds of staff, the same tasteful art and furniture, all of good quality and crafted to spend decades in the same spot. The children were all sent to one of a handful of schools, with the boys most likely being groomed to take on a role in the family business, and the girls expecting to marry well.

Just thinking about how similar this world was to her old one made her restless. They all accepted her as one of their own, which somehow made it even worse. None of them had any idea of the sort of places she'd been or the things she'd done. If only she could tell them. If only her mother wasn't still so insistent on maintaining a perfect facade.

…..

_May 1912_

Jack was already home when she came in. Their apartment had only two rooms. The first was the kitchen and living area, while the other was their bedroom. They had only a few pieces of essential furniture. There was no stove, no way of cooking or refrigerating food. At least, no conventional way.

During their second night in the apartment, Jack had shown her how to use the radiator to boil water for tea, and how to store milk on the windowsill so it stayed cold.

They did, however, have a small sink, and much to Rose's secret joy, warm water. Not hot. Merely warm. But it was good enough for her.

They shared the bathroom at the end of the hall with the other tenants. _That _ had taken some getting used to, and even a month on, Rose still wasn't quite comfortable with it, though it wasn't nearly as unpleasant as she'd first anticipated.

She was filling the kettle when Jack slipped his arms around her waist from behind. She smiled. "Well, hello."

He grinned and kissed her neck. "Happy anniversary, Petal."

"Anniversary." Rose looked at him over her shoulder. "What anniversary?"

"Don't tell me you've already forgotten," he teased playfully. "We were married a month ago today."

"We were, weren't we?" Rose leaned against him and pressed her hands over his. "I've been so busy all day I never even thought about it."

His chin rested on her shoulder, his cheek against hers. "You tired?"

"Not terribly so. I'm finally getting used to the pace, and I had good tips today."

"Cause you're so beautiful."

"It's certainly not because of my waitressing skills," she laughed.

Jack kissed her cheek. "You'll get better, and if you don't, it doesn't matter."

"Oh? Are you planning to become a famous artist and keep me?"

"Maybe. Sounds nice, doesn't it?" he said.

"It does, though I rather enjoy our life as it is."

"Me too." He gave her a squeeze. "Got a surprise for you."

"Really?" She turned in his arms. "Jack, you didn't have to do anything."

"Yeah, I know." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Close your eyes?"

"Alright."

He returned a moment later. He brushed his lips across hers and whispered, "Open your eyes."

Rose gasped softly. On their small table he'd placed a bouquet of pink hollyhocks and a book. She picked up the flowers and inhaled their sweet scent. "Jack, these are absolutely beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you," he said. "I wanted to get you roses, but-"

"No, these are perfect," Rose assured him. "Everyone has always given me roses. It's much nicer to finally get something different for a change."

She turned to the book. "_Beginning Drawing Techniques_," she read. "_Illustrated._ Jack, did you buy an art book for me?"

"I thought maybe you might like learning to draw," he explained. "I don't really know all of the proper techniques for teaching someone, but I can help." He smiled. "Maybe we'll both learn something. I know it's not much," he added.

"I love it." She looked into his eyes. "Thank you, Jack."

…..

_1917_

That was the memory Jack re-lived as he drew. He had just enough time to finish before lunch. He wasn't supposed to be off on his own like this, but so far no-one seemed to notice when he slipped away.

He already had a few drawings ready to send back to Rose, but this one was different. It was just for him.

…

_May 1912_

Making love was a revelation every time. It was always different and yet the same, exciting and reassuring all at once. Rose hadn't known it was possible to physically long for someone, to miss their touch and want them near. Did all couples feel this way? Were all the polite, prim ladies she'd grown up with harboring these same thoughts? Were they going about their days secretly buzzing with lust?

Rose kissed him greedily, wrapping her arms around his neck. Jack scooped her up easily, carrying her off to bed as if she weighed no more than a feather.

Their room was constantly drafty; the heat from the radiator never managed to penetrate the chill. They burrowed into a nest of blankets, tossing their clothes aside as they reached for each other.

Jack caressed her body, his lips following the path of his hands. Had he ever wanted anyone like this before? Had he ever ached with this kind of need to touch and be touched?

Jack thought he knew what making love was like, what it mean to be with a woman, but now he realized just how limited his understanding had been.

This was so much more than physical desire, more than pleasure; it was a connection beyond the limits of their bodies, beyond what they could ever say.

Rose looked down at him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark and sparkling. Her curls fell over her shoulders, glowing against her porcelain skin. She straddled his hips. "Jack, can I…" She hesitated.

"What do you want, Petal?" he asked gently.

"Can we try things differently?" she whispered. "Can I be…"

Jack grinned. "Of course you can."

…

_1917_

Jack sat at the group's usual table, his sketchbook open in front of him. The page was still blank. They'd been there nearly half an hour, and so far all he'd managed to do was twirl a pencil between his fingers. Nothing was catching his eye.

He sighed. The one person he truly wanted to draw was hundreds of miles away.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "May I sit here?"

Jack glanced up into the face of the young woman from the previous week. She wore a hopeful smile. "Sure," he said amiably.

"Thanks. You really don't mind?"

"I don't mind. Aren't you here with anyone?" he asked.

"I came with some friends, but they're all dancing."

"So are my friends," he said.

"Why aren't?"

Jack was surprised by her directness, and in fact, she was she. Victoria had always thought of herself as shy, but perhaps, that was changing.

He shrugged. "Haven't felt like it." His mouth curled up in a lopsided grin. "What about you?"

"I haven't been asked." She shrugged, hoping to give off an air of nonchalance.

"I find that hard to believe."

Victoria's cheeks glowed pink. "Well, it's true. I'm used to it, though. No-one likes a redhead."

"I _know_ that's not true." Jack's smile changed, and a dreamy look came into his blue eyes. "Red hair's gorgeous."

Victoria smiled wryly. "Tell that to the boys in this town."

"If they can't see how beautiful you are, that's their loss," he said.

Her blush deepened. Her heart fluttered. Could he actually be interested in her? He'd drawn that portrait; maybe it meant something after all.

"My wife has red hair," Jack went on. "It's like fire, like new pennies and a sunset all at once."

"Oh," Victoria said, careful to mask her disappointment. "She must be lovely. I'm sure you miss her."

"Yeah. I do." Jack paused. "Wanna dance?"

…

_Dear Rose,_

_I don't have any new drawings yet, but I'll get some in my next letter. I have a few ideas, and I'm going to work on them tomorrow if I get the time. I hope I do. I want you to see these. _

_I went to a party with some of the guys tonight. I wish you could've been there. I think you'd really like this place. I haven't heard music like this before, and I can just imagine what dancing with you to it would be like. _

_Right now I'd dance with you even without music. _

_I danced with someone tonight, though. She's a sweet girl. We talked about you. I miss you so much, Petal. It felt good to tell someone about you, about our life. It made you feel closer. _

_Love, _

_Jack_

_Dear Jack,_

_I love the drawings. I'm going to have them framed and hang them in my room. Thank you so much for sending them. _

_I have some news. I've signed up for a Nurse Training Course. I know it sounds crazy, and I also know the last thing you'd ever want is for me to go to Europe, but I need to do something. I'm not saying I would actually go, but at least this way I'll be learning useful skills. I can go if they need me. _

_Mother was furious when I told her, of course. She said that's what comes of letting me traipse around town on my own. Hah! As if she could stop me. As if I wouldn't have signed up whether she was there or not. _

_I miss you, Jack. Tonight when I go to bed I'll imagine you're holding me again. Maybe we'll be spared, and the War will end before you can be sent to France. If only. _

_I love you. I love you._

_Rose_


	5. Chapter 5

The crowd wasn't what Rose expected. She'd pictured industrious, civic minded women dressed plainly, and there were a few, but mostly the other attendees were debutantes and society wives. Hardly the type one expected to take up battlefield nursing.

But then again, who would have expected her to do any of the things she'd done over the past five years? There was no need to rush to judgement. She should give these women more credit. After all, she'd come from their world.

Rose took a seat near the middle of the room. The lecture was rather dry, but it didn't diminish her excitement. She knew the odds of her actually ending up in France were low; even if she was an excellent student, she was still likely to be underqualified, and if miraculously she wasn't, neither Jack nor her mother would hear of her going.

Defying Ruth's wishes was one thing, but telling Jack she was running into danger while he was facing it himself was something else entirely. Still, perhaps she could put her new skills to good use somehow. At least she was out of the house.

They broke up into small groups for tea after the lecture. Rose found herself at a table with three other women. Two appeared to be around her age, and the third was a few years younger. The older two were brunette and ash blonde, both impeccably dressed in the latest fashions, while the other had pale red hair. She too was beautifully dressed. She smiled brightly. "I haven't seen you before. I'd remember because I'm so jealous of your gorgeous hair. I'm Nancy Ainsworth."

Rose returned the smile. "Thank you. I'm Rose Dawson."

"These are my cousins, Bess and Georgina."

"I'm Georgina," the brunette said.

"And I'm Bess."

"So, what brings you here?" Nancy asked.

"My husband was drafted, and now I'm staying with my mother. To be honest, I need something to do, and I thought perhaps this might help me be more useful," Rose answered. "Or at least stop me from worrying for a few hours a week."

"My fiance was just drafted," Nancy said sympathetically. "He leaves next week."

"They're speeding things up, aren't they?" Rose remarked. "Jack had a month before he had to report."

"My husband was able to avoid it," Bess said, ducking her head guiltily. "Vital work and all that."

"So was mine," Georgina addeed. "That's why we're here. We didn't think it was fair that we were able to keep our men safely at home while also doing nothing for the war effort ourselves."

"That's very commendable," Rose said. "My mother would much prefer I spent my time at home. She's convinced I'll fall under some sort of bad influence here." The others echoed her laughter.

"Wouldn't she be surprised if she could see the collection of debs assembled here?" Nancy said.

Rose laughed again. "These are exactly the sort of women she's always pushing me to befriend."

"You were a deb, though, weren't you?" Georgina said. "You have the air."

Rose nodded. "Yes, I was, but that was a long time ago. I haven't been part of that world since I married."

"Why not?" Nancy asked eagerly. "Did something happen? Was there a scandal?"

Bess rolled her eyes. "Not everything is a mystery or a scandal, Nancy," she said good-naturedly. "Some things are just as they seem."

"Ah, but a deb dropping out of society is never a simple story," Nancy replied. "So Rose, care to tell us what happened?"

Rose glanced around the table. There was something endearing about these women. Instinctively, she felt she could trust them. They could be friends. "Well, if you truly want to know," she said. "I ran away with a penniless artist."

…

"Rose, is that you?" Ruth entered the room as Rose was settling into her chair. "Good. You're finally home. I was getting concerned."

"Why? You knew where I was," Rose said. "I told you I'd be taking tea after the lecture."

"Yes, but it's past six. You should have been home at least at half ago. What kept you?"

"I met some lovely women there, and we got to talking," Rose explained. "I didn't realize it had gotten so late."

"What kind of women?" Ruth took the chair next to her. "Rose, you didn't spend the afternoon with shop girls, I hope."

Rose resisted the urge to sigh. "There's nothing wrong with shop girls. I've been a shop girl, Mother. But no, they weren't. In fact, you would have enthusiastically approved of nearly everyone there."

"Really? What makes you so certain?"

"Well, you've been trying to convince me to socialize more with suitable women, and that's exactly who was there. Young society wives, debutantes, and upper middle class ladies. It was a far cry from the den of iniquity you feared," she finished with a grin.

"You may laugh at my caution, but Rose, only certain kinds of women go out and work when they don't need to."

"That's starting to change. Attitudes toward women being educated and toward women of means pursuing careers aren't what they once were. We can do anything we like these days."

"Don't be so sure. Maybe with a husband like Jack you can, but not everyone has that luxury," Ruth replied dryly.

"Was that a positive comment about him?" Rose's grin widened. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"Interpret it however you wish. My point is that most husbands aren't as generous as he is. They prefer their wives suitably occupied at home."

"Well, you'll be pleased to know he wouldn't like me going off to Europe any more than you do."

"That's because he has some good sense beneath all that talk of art and freedom," Ruth said. "He knows a war is no place for a woman, especially his wife."

"It's no place for anyone," Rose said somberly.

…

It began as a rumor. Jack heard it at breakfast. It was just a whisper with nothing behind it, but still, when he heard the words "shipping out", his stomach knotted. They weren't supposed to leave for another two weeks. That's what they'd been told. They had four weeks of training, and even then, most of them wouldn't be ready to face what lay ahead.

By that afternoon everyone on his unit was talking about the news. He couldn't escape the buzz of conversation or the endless speculation about their fate.

More than anything. Jack wished for silence and time to draw. He imagined himself on the beach, sketching the people around him, with Rose by his side. He didn't want much. They didn't have to be on the beach. He'd be happy anywhere as long as he had Rose and a few blank sheets of paper.

…

The official announcement came that evening, right after dinner. They were to be shipped out to Europe in two days. He didn't even have enough time to get a letter back to Rose. By the time she found out he'd already be gone.

Jack's heart ached as he pictured her stunned expression. Would they tell him where he was going in time to send her the address? Or would she be left wondering, desperately waiting for his next letter?

…..

_Dear Jack. _

_I went to the lecture today. It was rather dull, but I did meet some interesting women. We had tea together, and I think we're going to be friends. _

_They weren't at all what I expected, but then again, neither were most of the other women there. It was a rather sophisticated crowd, if you catch my meaning. Hah!_

_I don't mean to sound mocking. Socialites and debutantes have as much right to contribute to the War effort as anyone else, and unlike so many others, they actually have plenty of time and money to do so. _

_Mother was extremely pleased to hear I'd been spending time with "the right sort of people." Well, at least she's happy. I don't mind doing little things to make her happy _

_I'm inexplicably exhausted, so I'll end this letter here. I'll start another in the morning, and with any luck you'll get both at the same time. _

_Please take care of yourself and try to keep your spirits up, Jack. If anyone can manage to find a reason to smile in these dark times, it's you. _

_I love you. I love you. _

_Rose._

…

_Dear Rose._

_I hope this letter reaches you quickly. I know it's impossible, but I hope somehow you can write back before I leave. _

_Today they announced my unit's shipping out sooner than expected. We're leaving in two days. They didn't give us an explanation for the change. I guess they don't have to. _

_Please don't worry too much, Rose Petal. I'll be fine. I'll let you know where they're sending me as soon as I can. I hate this just as much as you do. Believe me. _

_I've been hearing things about how it's going at the Front, but I'm not sure how much of it is true. We've had a few newspapers, but I try not to read the news a lot. I know it sounds silly, but I want some space in my mind that's not full of the War. _

_You understand, don't you? If anyone does, it's you. You always seem to know what I'm trying to say. How do you do that, Rose?_

_I'll write you a longer letter as soon as I can. Please try to stay hopeful and let yourself be as happy as possible. This will end, and we;ll be together again. I promise, Rose. _

_I love you. I love you. _

_Jack._

…_._

"You're going to another lecture?" Ruth said. "So soon?"

"No, actually they're only twice a week," Rose replied. "I'm going to tea with the women I met there."

Ruth's curiosity matched her suspicion. "Are you going to one of their homes? Where do they live?"

"Nancy lives with her family, the Ainsworths. I told you her full name, remember? You were rather excited about the connection, if I recall correctly." Rose smiled. "And the other two are her cousins on her mother's side."

"Does the family approve of their involvement in this group? It isn't exactly the sort of thing ladies engage in,"

"Times are changing," Rose reminded her. "And the War is changing the world a little more every day." She pressed her hand over her wedding ring as she said the last part.

Jack wasn't in it yet, she told herself. There was still time for it to end before he had to join the others at the Front. And who knew, maybe they would make him an officer's assistant or a clerk of some kind and keep him in Paris or London for the duration.

As fervently as she hoped for any outcome that kept Jack out of harm's way, in her heart, Rose knew it wouldn't happen. He wou;d be sent into battle just like all the others.

Sensing Rose's mood, Ruth said, "You must be sure to invite them here. Our circumstances may be reduced compared to what they once were, but we are still more than capable of hosting your friends."

Rose allowed herself another smile. Her mother was trying, and even if she fell short, the effort was enough. "I'll invite them for tea soon. Is there a day you prefer?"

"A day next week would be nice. Thursday, perhaps."

"Alright," Rose nodded. "I'll invite them for next Thursday."

…..

"We were afraid you wouldn't come out," Percy said.

"It's our last night. I should have a little fun," Jack replied. "Who knows what's gonna happen next."

Ryan clapped him on the back. "That's the spirit! It can't be doom and gloom all the time. War or not."

"Exactly. Gotta make each day count," Jack agreed He looked around the room. It was even more crowded than usual. Every seat at the bar was occupied, and there were no free tables. The dance floor was full of couples desperate for one last bit of joy before the morning came. They held each other tightly no matter what song played. "Looks like we're not the only ones with that idea," he said.

"I couldn't get us any seats," Stephen called. He carried a tray laden with glasses. "But drinks are on the house tonight."

"Then let's get more!" Ryan cried.

Jack laughed. "I'm sure there's plenty left."

It wasn't long before he found himself standing by the wall, watching the revelers. He sipped his beer. It was cheap, but it was cold and satisfying anyway. A pleasant warmth settled over him.

It would have been nice to have his drawing supplies, but he'd told himself to participate in the fun rather than just observing it. Still, Jack wished he could put the scenes unfolding around him on paper. He'd enjoy going back and looking at them once the War finally ended.

_If _it ended. Jack pushed away the thought. There was no use dwelling on what-ifs. It wouldn't get him anywhere. All he could do was work with what he had, just like he'd always done.

"Still sitting out each dance?" Jack turned. He hadn't noticed Victoria's approach. "You don't look like a wallflower," she added amiably.

He shrugged. "Looks can be deceiving."

She laughed. "Yes, that's true."

"I've been in the mood to watch lately. It's been hard to imagine dancing without my wife."

Her voice was small. "Oh."

"But I think I should tonight," he said

She smiled tentatively. "Really?"

Jack nodded. "I need to let myself have fun." He held out his hand. "Victoria, would you like to dance?"

Her eyes lit up. "I'd love to."

…

The crowd parted for them as Jack led her onto the floor, though perhaps that was just her imagination. It felt real enough to Victoria, so that's all that mattered.

He was the most dashing man she had ever met. Next to him the most eligible men in town looked like awkward, overgrown boys. He grinned, and she felt the full force of his charm. With his light shining on her, Victoria blossomed.

Everyone noticed the change in her. They whispered among themselves, speculating about her relationship with this young soldier. He was leaving in the morning, so not much could come of it. Though a hasty engagement was possible. Many young couples were pledging themselves to each other after only a few weeks, or in some cases, even a few days.

Young men who had never looked twice at Victoria suddenly noticed her. Had she always been so lovely? Had her hair always shone like new pennies? Why had they never seen it before?

….

Victoria was still laughing as Jack led her outside. Perspiration dotted her forehead. "Thank you," she said. "I was getting awfully hot in there."

"So was I." Jack took a gulp of the cool night air. "I almost forgot how much work dancing is."

"Work? You don't dance like it's work. I'd be glad to have a job that made me as happy as you were back there."

He chuckled. "It would be nice."

Victoria's heart beat faster as they settled into silence. She snuck a glance at him. What would it be like to kiss him? To have him hold her close and wrap his strong arms around her?

She blushed when he caught her eye. Did he sense what she was thinking? Did he want to kiss her? No, she reminded herself. He had a wife he was absolutely crazy about.

Jack offered her a smile. "Ready to go back inside?"

"Yes," she replied, taking the arm he offered. At least she could dance with him a little longer.

….

The letter was waiting on the front table. Rose saw it immediately. She smiled as she opened it. It was shorter than usual, but that was alright. No doubt he was busy.

Her blood went cold as she read his words. It couldn't be right. She read them again, but they didn't change. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "He has more time. He isn't supposed to go yet."

There had to be some mistake. She turned it over and looked at the postmark. Her throat tightened. He was already gone and with no word about where he'd been sent. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Jack." Her voice cracked. "Jack, no." She hugged herself as the sobs overtook her.


	6. Chapter 6

_August 1912_

The ocean was calm. So far, they were the only ones taking advantage of it. The sky was clear, the sun bright, and Jack turned his face up toward it, eager for the warmth. "Sunflower," Rose giggled, circling her arms around his waist.

He grinned and pressed his hands over hers. "You think you're the only one who gets to be a flower?"

She kissed his cheek. "I think you're Apollo, and any moment you'll carry me off in your chariot."

"Apollo, huh?"

She nodded and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Why not?"

"No-one's ever said anything like that to me." He pulled her around so they were facing each other. "I've never thought of myself as particularly god-like." He laughed. "Aren't they usually more impressive?"

"Don't underestimate yourself, Jack."

The love in her eyes nearly overwhelmed him. How had this happened? What had he done to deserve this amazing woman? "I'll try not to," he replied, pulling her closer.

She kissed him lightly. "Well, I'll be here to remind you if you should forget."

Jack wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. She lay her head on his chest, legs around him. The water, so daunting when they first arrived, now seemed welcoming, as if it approved of them. At least someone did, she thought wryly.

….

The persistent knocking woke her. Rose rubbed her eyes, already reaching for Jack, but his side of the bed was cold. An ache filled her heart as she remembered. They weren't back at the beach. They weren't together. She didn't even know where he was now.

The knocking came again. "Miss?"

How long had she been asleep? Rose couldn't remember drifting off. She was only vaguely aware of coming upstairs, his letter still clutched in her hand. Her room was dark, but that didn't tell her much. "Yes?" she called. "You may come in."

Fiona stood in the doorway. "Is something wrong, Miss Rose? Are you ill?"

Rose shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I've just been taking a nap. Did my mother send you to check on me?"

"Yes, miss. She would like to know if you'll be coming down for dinner."

Rose shook her head again. The thought of facing anyone right now, especially her mother, was simply too much. Ruth would immediately suspect something was wrong, and she'd devote the rest of the evening to find out what, even if it meant dragging it out of her. "Would you please tell my mother I'll be having dinner in my room tonight?"

Fiona hesitated. "Are you feeling ill, Miss?"

"I don't feel well," Rose answered. It wasn't a lie; she hadn't felt quite right since Jack's departure. "Please, just let her know I'll be upstairs resting for the remainder of the evening. If she has any further questions, she can direct them to me herself."

A hint of a smile crossed Fiona's face. "Miss, I'm afraid I can't tell her that."

Rose laughed. "No, I imagine you can't. Forgive me. You may simply tell her I'm resting."

"Yes, of course, Miss."

When she was gone Rose sank back into the bed. She curled up on her side, hugging Jack's pillow. It still smelled like him, though maybe she was imagining it. Possibly her mind was playing tricks in an attempt to comfort her. Either way, she was grateful.

Rose closed her eyes, but sleep didn't come. She replayed the dream. They'd taken the trip as a honeymoon even though they'd been married for months by then. "I promised we'd go to the pier," Jack said, once they finally arrived. He put his arm around her waist. "And we did."

Rose smiled up at him. "I knew we would." She kissed him. "What shall we do first?"

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks at the memory of those days. They'd been so carefree, so sure they'd survived the worst that life could throw at them. What were everyday problems when compared to the sinking? What were the draughts in their first apartment next to the deadly cold of the North Atlantic?

"We're together. We'll find a way," they always said. And for five years that held true. But now they weren't together anymore, and there was a chance they never would be again.

Rose sobbed into his pillow. It wasn't fair. It was pointless. What did the War have to do with them? Or with any of the others who were sent away from their loved ones? They hadn't asked for this. They had no stake in this fight.

She knew it wasn't quite as simple as that, but at that moment, she didn't care. Jack was gone; nothing else mattered.

…

Being onboard a ship again wasn't nearly as frightening as he'd expected. Maybe that's because he was heading off to war, a prospect that actually managed to eclipse the sinking in his mind.

Whatever the reason, Jack found himself strangely at ease. There was nothing he could do to change what was happening, so he focused on what little he could control. He wrote a letter to Rose each morning, assuring her that he was fine. They couldn't be mailed until they docked, but at least they'd be ready to go as soon as he had the chance. He hoped they'd arrive all at once.

Jack stayed out on deck as much as possible. He found a nice spot their first morning aboard, and it had quickly become his usual seat. It was where Percy found him after breakfast on their fourth day.

"Writing to your wife again?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

"Can't have much to say," Percy commented amiably. "So far we do the same thing every day. It's worse than the camp."

Jack grinned. "You mean 'cause there aren't any dances here?"

"Don't remind me." Percy slumped down, covering his face with his hands. "I never intended to do anything, but at least we could get out and talk to other people, talk to girls, you know? It was nice. We could hear a little music, have a beer."

"It made things easier," Jack agreed. He remembered their last night. Dancing with Victoria had been nice, but she'd wanted more. He sensed it. He saw the way she snuck glances at him, as if waiting for him to kiss her. Even if he wasn't married, Jack doubted he would have. So many couples were rushing into engagements and even marriage, and he understood it; with so much uncertainty looming, they needed love and reassurance, but it didn't feel right to him.

Wouldn't it be worse to die and leave a fiancee or a widow who barely got the chance to be a wife? At least he and Rose had five years together. Or, and this he tried not to consider, would that make it harder for her if he didn't come back?

"Smoke?" Percy offered.

"Sure. Thanks."

It was nice to have something different to do with his hands. Smoking gave him a specific task to focus on. He didn't have to think until the cigarette was gone.

"What do you think will happen when we get there?" Percy asked.

"Honestly, I have no idea. I've tried not to think about it." They shared a laugh as the weight of their situation settled around them once again. "They'll probably send us straight out," Jack said.

"You really think so?"

Jack shrugged. "No reason not to. Why else would they be taking us over early?"

"You've got a point. They must really need us."

"Yeah, they must."

"But we'll win," Percy said, sounding more confident than he felt. "We'll win, and we'll be back home in a few months."

Jack gave him a half-grin. "Maybe we'll be home in just a few weeks."

"We might even be back in time for Christmas."

It was a nice thought, but neither of them truly believed it. How could they?

….

_August 1912_

They lay on the beach, basking in the sun. Tiny freckles had begun appearing on Rose's nose and across her cheeks. "I'm afraid you're about to learn the awful truth about me," she said. "There's a reason I haven't been allowed in the sun."

"Cause you get even cuter?" Jack grinned.

"Freckles are hardly a fitting complexion for a grown woman, much less a lady," she said haughtily.

"Says who?" He took her hand and kissed it. "I think you're just gettin more beautiful every day."

She smiled. "Jack, you can't mean that."

"Of course I can. Why else would I say it?"

"I'm flattered, Monsieur."

Jack rolled onto his side and leaned on his elbow. "I don't do that, miss," he said lightly.

Rose studied him for a moment. "No, you don't," she agreed. "I love that about you."

He reached over and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Every nice thing I've ever said to you was the truth."

"I wasn't aware you said unkind things to me."

He chuckled. "You know what I mean." He gently cupped her cheek, caressing with his thumb. Her heart fluttered. How did this simple gesture still affect her so strongly?

"What if you start?" she said softly.

"Never gonna happen, Rose."

….

Rose buried her face in the pillow and groaned. The knocking was back, only louder this time. "I'm fine, Fiona," she called. "You can go."

"Rose, this is your mother."

"Mother?" She raised her head, surprised.

"Yes, and if you don't open this door immediately I'll come in whether you like it or not. I have the keys to every room in this house."

Rose pulled on her dressing gown and opened the door. Her curls were knotted; one side of her face sported pillow creases, and she wore one of Jack's shirts. It didn't fully cover her bare thighs.

Ruth swallowed her shock at her daughter's unkempt appearance. Hadn't they gone through this already? "Rose, do you have any idea what time it is?"

Rose blinked. Had she come upstairs to ask about the _time_? No, of course not. That was absurd. She meant it was too late for Rose to still be in bed. As if she had a busy schedule to keep, as if there was an appointment book full of reasons to get out of bed every day. As if she weren't grieving the separation from Jack all over again.

"No, Mother. I'm afraid I don't know what time it is."

"It's past nine. You've already missed breakfast, but I've had a tray prepared for you."

"Thank you," Rose said. "I'll take it up here."

"I thought as much," Ruth said briskly. "Rose, I will allow you this indulgence, but once you've eaten, I expect to see you downstairs, dressed, and your hair brushed and contained."

"Mother, I don't-"

"This isn't a negotiation, Rose." Ruth's tone shifted. "He isn't dead. He'll be back. In the meantime, you must do what you can to remain healthy and in good spirits. We've already discussed this. It's what he wants too."

"I know. I've been doing that."

"Clearly, you've given up," Ruth replied, not unkindly. "Rose, this isn't like you."

A painful lump filled her throat. "They sent him to France early," she whispered. "I don't even know where he's going or when he'll arrive. I can't write to him. All I can do is wait for another letter."

Ruth's expression softened. "Well, that's what you'll do," she said. "And in the meantime, you'll keep yourself busy. Your friends are coming for tea tomorrow. You still haven't planned the menu."

"I forgot. After I read the letter yesterday…" Rose shook her head and hugged herself. She lacked the words to explain the fear she felt, the cold dread in her heart at the thought of Jack dying alone, so far away from her. Thinking about it was almost more than she could bear. Rose sighed, shaking her head again.

"Rose, I've told you that being fond of your husband is a good thing, but there's a line you shouldn't cross. You can't lose yourself so completely over one. You've always been too invested in that boy."

"I love Jack."

"Yes, I know," Ruth said patiently. "But that doesn't mean you must give up living when he isn't with you. He's only a husband, Husbands come and go. That's the way life works."

Rose stared at her in disbelief. "I'm afraid it won't be quite so easy for me if something happens to Jack."

"And that worries me. This never would have happened if…"

"No, I suppose not," Rose agreed. "Though I doubt that would be preferable." She took a deep breath. "I'll come downstairs soon. You're right. I need to pull myself together."

"I'll be waiting in the sitting room."

…..

They hadn't taken many photos together. Jack had two with him, both of Rose. One had been taken during their honeymoon. In it, she sat astride a horse on the beach. She wore a man's shirt and pants, altered to fit her properly. Her curls had been pulled back, but a few escaped, framing her smiling face. It was one of his favorites pictures of her.

Jack vividly remembered that day. He suspected he would think of it often during the coming months. The clean, salty smell of the wind, how cool the ocean had been under the late summer sun. The music of the boardwalk and the chatter of the other visitors. But most of all, he would remember Rose, the way she laughed as they galloped down the beach, how she gripped his hand once the roller coaster began its ascent.

They danced at the edge of the water as the sun set, and he held her in his arms, unable to believe his life had really taken this incredible turn, while also fully confident that nothing could ever part them.

How wrong he'd been. Or rather, how blinded by youth and happiness. He'd thought he understood his own mortality, but now Jack wasn't so sure. He wasn't ready to die. He knew that much.

Jack picked up the second photo. It showed Rose, perched on a tree branch, barefoot, her hair flowing down her shoulders. She wore a summer dress and a crown of wildflowers. "Am I to be Titania?" she laughed when he gave it to her.

"I hope not. Then I'd have to fight to get you back." He grinned and kissed her.

"Another fairy queen, perhaps?"

"My Rose Petal sprite."

Rose laughed again. "Now I feel a bit like Jane Eyre."

"I don't think I'd be a good Rochester. I don't have any wives stashed away."

"Good." She kissed him lightly. "Will you please help me into the tree?"

Jack had taken the photo with a small camera. She'd given it to him for his birthday, and he'd quickly developed an eye for the medium, taking as many pictures as he could, but he considered this one his best.

…..

_Dear Rose, _

_There's nothing new to report so far. I'm still on the ship. We should be in Europe next week, or so they tell us. I guess we'll find out when the time comes. There's nothing much to do right now. I've been writing to you a lot. You'll be overrun with letters when I finally get to mail all of them. I hope I have an address to give you by then. I'll keep writing you every day as long as I can. I promise. _

_I wish I knew what you were doing. I wish you could tell me you're alright. I know your mother is probably driving you crazy, but I'm still glad you're not alone. She's doing her best, and I trust her to make sure you're alright. _

_I know you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, Petal, but this is no time to prove it. _

_Remember our first trip to the Pier? I've been thinking about that a lot lately. Remember how we danced on the beach? Remember what happened next? _

_I love you, Rose. I love you. _

_Jack. _

…

_August 1912_

Jack spun her. Laughing, Rose let herself be pulled back into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. His blue eyes sparkled; he wore a lopsided grin. "Did you have fun today?" he asked.

She nodded. "It's been even more wonderful than I imagined."

"It's been like that for me too." Jack kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm glad you weren't disappointed."

"Why would I be disappointed?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. After the way we talked about it, I just didn't want you to be disappointed if it wasn't as impressive as I made it sound."

"The experience will always be better because it's real," she said. She kissed him softly. "Thank you for bringing me here, Jack."

His heart swelled with love. He couldn't contain his smile. "Thank you for coming with me, Rose."

Their kiss was slow and tender. They swayed to music only they could hear. They barely noticed when the rain began falling. It was only when they were finally soaked through that they gave any thought to heading inside.

They ran back to their room, hands clasped and laughing as they splashed through puddles.

Shivering, they undressed quickly and climbed into bed. "C'mere. I'll keep you warm," Jack said, holding out his arms. Rose eagerly snuggled against him, entangling her legs with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him longingly.

"This how you wanted to end the day?" he asked.

"Can you think of a better way?" Rose brushed his damp locks away from his face. She rested her hand on his cheek. "I can't."

"Neither can I."

There was no need for haste, no worry about being discovered. They had the whole night to spend in each other's arms, and that luxury still hadn't lost its lustre. They doubted it ever would. What could be better than this? To bask in the person you loved most, giving and receiving pleasure?

Jack gazed into her eyes as she came undone beneath his kisses. Her thighs trembled, and her sweetness nearly overwhelmed him. "My Rose," he whispered.

"Will you...would you do that again?" she gasped.

"Think you can handle it?" He kissed her thigh, his hands already taking hold of her hips to steady her.

"Can you?" she teased.

"Oh yes, Miss." He kissed furhter up her thigh. "Always."


	7. Chapter 7

_Dear Rose,_

_I don't know when you'll get this. I mailed all my letters yesterday as soon as we were off the ship. I'm at a camp in England, and they say we'll be going over to France by the end of the week and heading out to the Front. Part of me hopes there's a delay, and I can at least get a letter from you before I go, but I know that's not in the cards._

_I dream about you, Rose Petal. My eyes close, and there you are. Remember last summer when we stayed by that lake? How we went swimming every night? I've been dreaming about that. It's so real, Petal. I feel you in my arms, and I hear you laughing as you clutch my by the neck. I'm holding you so tightly, and I'm kissing you. The moon's shining down on us, and the water's cold, but we don't mind because it's the first relief from the heat we've had all day. _

_Remember how we lay in the grass? How soft it was, and how fresh it smelled? Remember how the breeze gave you goosebumps, and you pulled me onto you? _

_I dream of your softness and your kisses, of our rhythms and the way we move together, taking each other higher and higher. _

_I miss you, Rose. I'm coming back to you. I don't know when, but I will. I promise. _

_I love you. I love you. _

_Jack_

_Dear Jack, _

_It's been two weeks since your last letter, and I'm trying not to worry, but I can't help it. I know crossings don't happen in a day, even under normal circumstances, but these aren't normal circumstances. I try not to think about all the things that could happen, and mostly, I succeed, but there are times at night when I can't sleep, and my mind fills with worry. _

_I'm still trying to keep myself as busy as possible. I've been going to the nursing classes every week, and I have tea with my new friends. They've met Mother, and she adores them, though I'm sure that has as much to do with their family's backgrounds as it does their personalities. You know how she is. She does seem to be trying her best, though._

_I've decided to look for a job. I know I don't need one, but my classes are only one evening a week, and I need more to do during the day. Mother wants me to join a few of her groups, but I just can't imagine myself attending those endless meetings and drinking tea while discussing charity events where more money goes into the event than to the charity. _

_She'll be beside herself when I tell her, but I'm not planning to mention it until after I find a job. You'd understand. I wish I could discuss it with you. I wish I could discuss anything with you, even if it's just asking what you'd like for lunch. _

_I reach for you at night, Jack. I roll toward your side of the bed, expecting you to wrap your arms around me and pull me close. I miss being held by you. I miss the way you'd nuzzle my neck and kiss my cheek. The way our bodies fit together as we slept. _

_I miss your hands and your kisses. _

_I love you. I love you. _

_Rose_

….

Rose patted her hair, making sure none of her curls had escaped from their pins. She smoothed her skirt and proceeded into the library. In her purse, she carried a Help Wanted advertisement clipped from the previous day's newspaper. She stopped at the Information Desk. "Hello," she said pleasantly. "I'm here regarding the advertisement in the newspaper."

The woman she addressed looked to be in her mid-thirties. She was dressed smartly and had a stylish hairstyle. She wore silver spectacles, but rather than making her appear older, they gave her a distinguished air. "You're the first to inquire," she said. She held out her hand. "I'm Emma Stein."

Rose shook her hand. "Rose Dawson."

Emma smiled. "Well, Rose, would you like to sit down and discuss the position?"

"Yes, that sounds nice."

"This way," Emma said. She led Rose around the desk and down a short hallway. "This office is used by all of us," she explained. It was a spacious room with a large, oak desk, filing cabinets along one wall, and a bookcase along the other. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable," she added.

Rose took the leather armchair opposite the desk. "Thank you."

Emma settled in the chair closest to Rose. "We don't need to be formal," she said. "Let's just get to know each other a bit. For instance, are you married?"

Rose nodded. "Yes. My husband's away at present."

"In the War?"

"Unfortunately," Rose said.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Emma said. "It seems everyday more and more boys are being shipped off."

"Do you have someone in the War?"

"I'm one of the lucky few who doesn't," Emma replied. "My husband was able to secure an exemption due to ill-health. He wasn't happy about it, though. He'd much rather be off in the trenches than at home taking care of himself." She laughed. "Well, at least he thinks he would. Anyhow, what interests you about the position?"

"Honestly, I've been struggling to keep myself occupied since Jack-my husband-left," Rose said. "I'm living with my mother and her husband right now, and while I appreciate not being alone, I can only spend so much time with my mother. She tries her best, but we don't always agree on things. I'd like a reason to be out and to have a routine that involves more than afternoon teas."

"Yes, I think I understand," Emma said. "I started here ten years ago for similar reasons."

"You must love it to have stayed so long."

"It feels like home," Emma said. "I can't imagine leaving at this point." She smiled to herself. "Well, may I ask, do you have any previous employment experience?"

"Actually, yes. I've worked in shops, and I've done a bit of waitressing. I suppose that's different from what you do in the library, but I believe whatever I don't know I can learn quickly."

"It isn't terribly complicated," Emma said. "We're looking for an Assistant Librarian, so you wouldn't be saddled with too much responsibility. It would mostly include helping people find books, check-outs, dusting the stacks, that sort of thing. Are you still interested?"

"Yes, absolutely," Rose said.

…

_Dear Jack, _

_I have a job! I'll only be working four days a week, five hours a day, but still, it's something! I'll be getting out of the house and meeting with people, and getting paid for it! And Mother will have no reason to tag along! Lately it feels like the only places I've been able to go without is my classes, and that's only because she's horrified by the very idea. _

_What will I be doing, you ask? Well, I shall be an Assistant Librarian at the public library, and as such, I will be tasked with handling a great many things. I must maintain the appearance and order of the stacks, which will involve learning the library's organizational system. How exciting, you say? You know, it is exciting to me. I'll also be handling check-outs, which means I'll be in charge of the date stamp. If I choose, I can alter it so everyone gets to keep their books longer. I'm not saying I'd ever do that, but then again, two weeks isn't very long. Some people need more time to finish their books, and they should have it easily, without needing to worry about renewals. _

_Mother, of course, was not pleased when I told her. Are you surprised? I'm not. She sighed and shook her head, fighting the urge to frown. "Rose, I don't understand why you want to do this," she said. "You have a comfortable home. You have savings. You don't need to worry about anything. There isn't even a need for you to spend your own money."_

_I tried to explain that it wasn't about the money, it was about having something to do, but she still didn't understand. "You could do charity work," she argued. "That's what ladies in your position do, Rose."_

_Then it was my turn to sigh. The conversation was exhausting, but finally, she accepted that I'll be working at the library. "At least it's a respectable position," she said. "You'll be among other ladies instead of in some seedy cafe, serving coffee to God only knows whom."_

_I almost laughed at that. She has no idea I've done exactly that!_

_Well, I shall leave you here. I'll have more news soon, and with any luck, a place to send these letters. _

_I love you. I love you._

_Rose_

_Dear Rose, _

_Well, here I am. I've crossed over into France. It happened faster than we expected, so I didn't get a chance to write to you again since the last time. Things aren't quite as bad here as we thought, at least, not where I am. I promise. I'm safe. _

_They say I'll be here for a while, so this is where you should send your letters for now. I'll let you know when that changes. Things are so crazy here. Sometimes I think no-one really knows what's going on or what's supposed to happen. Maybe I'm not supposed to say that, but it's how I feel. _

_Please tell me everything that's going on back home. Are you alright? Are you and your mother still managing to get along? How are your nursing classes? Are you still spending time with your new friends? I hope your mother doesn't convince them to find you a rich husband while I'm gone. Ha! I know you'd never agree to that. _

_I miss you, Rose. I'm trying so hard to stay positive, to be optimistic, but it's hard sometimes. I know things haven't gotten as bad as they're going to get, and in a way, that makes it worse. If I miss you this much now, how awful will it be in a month or two when I'm at the Front? _

_I miss so many things lately. Getting to draw whenever I feel like it. Getting up whenever I feel like it. Wearing my own clothes. Cooking my own food. Not sleeping in an Army barrack. _

_I miss spending the whole day in bed with you. I never truly appreciated those days we'd wake up and reach for each other. Make love. Eat breakfast in bed together and then make love again. By the afternoon we'd be drifting off in each other's arms. Remember how we always seemed to wake up in time to make love again before finally getting up for dinner? _

_I'd give anything to have another day like that with you. I'd give anything just to see your beautiful face, Rose. To hear your voice. Your laugh. _

_When I dream about you it feels so real. I take you in my arms, and I swear I'm really holding you. I feel your soft curves in my hands and your warm body against mine. Your curls brush my cheek when you kiss me, and your hand presses the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and I kiss you with everything I have. _

_When this is all finally over, I'm gonna take you in my arms and never let go, Rose. I'll kiss you until we're gasping for breath, but we won't care, and the next kiss will be just the same. We'll spend more than just a day in bed; we'll be there for at least a week. They'll have to leave meals outside our door for us to eventually find. _

_I always thought I gave everything I had when I made love to you, but now I'm not so sure. I think there's more. _

_I love you. I love you. _

_Jack. _

…..

Rose was passing the sitting room when Ruth called her name. "Yes, Mother?" she said, stepping inside. "Do you need something?"

"Come sit down. I'm planning a dinner party for next week, and I'd like your help with the guest list."

"How can I help?" Rose asked. "I hardly know anyone here."

"That isn't true. You know the ladies I've introduced you to, and there are your friends from that class you're taking," Ruth said. "The men will all be from my husband's office, of course. He's already supplied me with a list, so that's taken care of."

"What's the reason for the party?"

"They've secured a Defense Department contract. Apparently it will increase their business at least twofold, perhaps more. Well, that's what he told me anyway," Ruth replied. "Either way, it's a cause of celebration, and as wife of the head of the company, it's my duty to throw the party. I thought dinner would be the most appropriate choice. An extravagant affair would only be vulgar during times like these."

"Yes, I agree," Rose said. "How many guests were you planning to invite?"

"Well, there's the three of us, of course, and there will be three executives, so if you asked all three of your friends, that would make four even couples. I think that would do nicely. You'll be the odd one out, but that can't be helped, I suppose. It wouldn't do to only invite two of your friends, particularly since they're related."

"Mother, you are aware that we're all married, aren't you?" Rose said "Or at least attached?"

"Why does that matter? Rose, this is a simple dinner party, not a matchmaking event. There's no reason why anyone should feel uncomfortable. I merely want as even a number of gentlemen and ladies as possible," Ruth said. "That's a key part of any successful party. You should know that."

"Yes, I do know that. I didn't mean to imply you had any ulterior motives. I just wanted to point out that some of my friends might prefer to bring their husbands along, seeing as how they're still at home."

"Well, invite their husbands as well then," Ruth said. "I imagine the men will enjoy having someone new to talk to, and who knows? Maybe they'll make some new business connections."

"Fine. I'll do that. Do you have invitations?" Rose asked.

"They're being delivered this afternoon. Just in time for you to take them with you to your class this evening."

Rose wasn't certain, but she thought she saw a gleam of triumph in her mother's eyes.

…

_Dear Jack_,

_It's nearly nine, and I'm still lying in bed. I don't have to be at the library until 1:00, and I just can't bring myself to get up. I'm terribly lazy, aren't I? Monet is asleep at my feet, so at least he doesn't judge me. _

_I wish you were here with me, Jack. Remember all those mornings we lingered in bed? I do. I've been thinking about them so much lately. I'm not sure I truly appreciated them the way I should have. How nice it felt, lying in your arms! The way you clasped me to your chest, cradling me like I was something precious. We'll have that again. I know we will. I tell myself everyday that I'm one day closer to being with you again. I find that makes everything look a little brighter. _

_I still haven't received any new letters from you, but I'm sure they'll arrive anytime now. I'm desperate for news from you. How are you getting along over there? What's it like? Tell me as much as you can, please. I want to know what you're going through. Don't ever be afraid I can't handle it or feel as though you have to keep things to yourself to spare me. If you can live through it, I can certainly hear about it. _

_Mother's planning a dinner party for next week. It's sure to be exciting. I'm only being half-serious. It's probably going to be a perfectly uneventful, yet fine, time. She's inviting several, presumably unmarried, men from her husband's company, so I fully expect to be inundated with their accomplishments before the end of the first course. _

_I'm probably being a little too cynical. She means well, and this is probably all harmless, but I can't help wondering if it's some sort of set-up.. Is she trying to find me a new husband just in case you don't come back? It sounds morbid, but that's how her mind works. _

_Of course, you're going to come back. I'm absolutely certain of it. Hold on to that, Jack, when you find yourself losing hope. I haven't lost hope, and I won't, no matter what happens. _

_I love you. I love you. _

_Rose. _

_Dear Rose, _

_I'm still here. No word yet about when I'll go to the Front. Wouldn't it be funny if I spent the entire war on the coast and never saw any fighting? I guess there's always a chance it could end up out here, but if that happens, then we're probably not doing too well, are we? _

_I don't feel as gloomy as I sound. I promise. It's late, and I can't sleep.. We're right outside a little town. It's beautiful here, and every day I find more things I want to draw, but so far, I haven't really had time for it. _

_I went into town the other day and found a bakery. I smelled the bread baking from down the street, and my mouth began watering. I only had a few coins in my pocket, but it was enough for a bag of fresh rolls. They were still warm from the oven and covered in honey butter. I ate them all sitting on a bench outside. They were the most delicious thing I've tasted since I left. _

_I wish you could see the town, Rose. I wish we were here together, exploring the countryside, and there wasn't a War. I wish we were staying in the hotel with the lavender planted all around it, so all we could see from our window is a sea of purple blooms. I imagine us in the attic room, our bed pressed against the window so the moonlight always shines in on us, and you glow in my arms. _

_I wish I could hold you right now. My hands long for your curves. My body longs to be close to yours, entwined together, forgetting everything but each other. I'd spend the whole night making love to you. _

_I love you. I love you. _

_Jack _


	8. Chapter 8

"Miss?"

Rose looked up from her book. She was curled up on the window seat in the sitting room. Monet's head rested on her knee. He glanced at the maid who stood before them. She was young, no more than 21, Rose guessed, with shining, jet black hair and soft green eyes. She wore a hesitant expression. "I'm sorry to disturb you, miss," she said. "But there's a rather large packet of letters for you. I thought you'd like to know."

Rose's heart leapt. "There are?" She tossed her book aside. "Where are they?"

"They're on the table in the foyer. Would you like me to bring them to you?"

"That's not necessary-" Rose searched her mind for the girl's name.

"Kathleen, miss."

"Kathleen, thank you," Rose said. She smiled warmly. "I mean that. Truly. You don't know how important these letters are to me."

"Your husband's in the War, isn't he?"

Rose nodded. "He was sent to France last month, and I haven't heard anything from him since before he left. I've been going crazy worrying about everything that could've happened to him."

"I understand. My fiance was sent last week, and I haven't been able to think of anything else."

"It's awful, isn't it?" Rose said. "Not knowing?"

"Aye, it is. Though I suppose being there's much worse."

"Yes, of course," Rose said. "I didn't mean to imply our positions are more difficult."

"No, miss. I shouldn't have said that," Kathleen said. "It was impudent of me. I apologize."

"You have nothing to apologize for. I'm afraid I'm just at my wit's end." Rose shook her head, holding back tears. "I miss him so much, and it feels like I can't talk about it with anyone."

"Surely your mother would understand, miss."

"No, she doesn't," Rose said. "She never has." She let out a heavy breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so emotional. You may go, Kathleen. Thank you for telling me about the letters."

"Of course, miss. You're welcome." Kathleen curtsied. She left as silently as she'd come in.

Rose wasted no time before hurrying to retrieve the letters. She let out a cry as she snatched them from the table. The packet was even thicker than she'd expected. She held them up to her nose, imagining Jack's scent still clung to them.

…

Rose read them curled up on her bed with Monet at her side. At first she devoured them, unable to get enough of Jack's words, the shape of his handwriting. She heard his voice as she read, and it was like he was in the room with her, telling her all about his days. Her second reading was slower, more deliberate. She savored each anecdote and affectionate phrase.

She smiled until her cheeks hurt as she read of how he missed her. If only she could be with him. She'd gladly join the Red Cross as a field nurse if it meant she could follow his regiment across Europe. Even if they only got to see each other from afar, it would be enough. She'd know he was alright.

She blushed when she came to the parts where he spoke of how he missed holding her at night, of the way his hands longed for her curves. Her heart beat faster. The heat of her blush spread down her body, spreading desire through her. Heat pooled between her legs. Rose sighed, flinging herself back onto the pillows. If only Jack were there! If only he could take her in his arms and hold her close. Kiss her tenderly, his hands moving over her, seeking out the buttons on her dress, untying her sash, and pulling out hair pins as he gently steered her toward the bed. It didn't matter if it was the middle of the afternoon or even just mid-morning. If they had nowhere else to be, why not make love?

Rose closed her eyes, remembering the way he carried her sometimes, sweeping her up into his arms like she weighed nothing. It always made her laugh. He'd just grin and kiss her. "My sweet miss," he'd whisper sometimes. Other times she was, "My Rose Petal."

Her hand slipped down, lightly cupping her breast. It wasn't as big as Jack's, but it was all she had. Rose didn't think about what she was doing. If she'd stopped to think, she wouldn't have let herself keep going, and deep down, she knew how badly she needed this.

Her breathing slowed. The memories continued to flow. Different times blended together, creating the perfect scene. Jack grinned down at her, his blue eyes shining with love and desire. A lock of golden hair fell across his forehead. She reached up and brushed it back. He kissed her palm, sending a shiver down her back. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he asked.

She smiled coyly. "I believe you've told me once or twice."

He brushed his lips across hers. "Well, I'm tellin you again," he murmured. "You're so incredibly beautiful, Rose. I love you so much."

"Is that all you love about me?" she teased. "Am I just another pretty face to you?"

Jack brought his hand up to cradle her cheek. His touch was light but reassuring. "Your gorgeous face is the least interesting thing about you, Rose. It always has been. You're funny and smart and sweet. You're a demanding, spoiled miss when you don't get your way." He grinned. "But even that's kinda cute sometimes. You care about art and the world. You care about _me_.

Rose, the fact that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen is just a bonus," he said.

She lay her hand over his. "Jack, I love you. You know that."

"I do. Sometimes it still doesn't feel real."

"I know what you mean," she whispered. She pulled him down into a kiss. She held him tightly, wrapping her arms around him.

In the present, Rose's hand kept moving lower. She'd never tried this before. She had some idea what she was doing, based on things Jack had done, but she'd never imagined having to actually do them herself. It was foolish of her, and she knew that now, but Rose had believed Jack would always be there. If they'd managed to survive the sinking together, what else could possibly come between them?

She slipped her hand into her bloomers, trying to mimic Jack's movements, but she lacked his confidence. Rose groaned in frustration. Shouldn't she be able to touch her own body without worrying about doing it incorrectly? If only there was a set of instructions or someone she could ask. Someone other than Jack, obviously. Though if she wrote him a letter asking the best way to pleasure herself he would no doubt tell her. He'd probably draw diagrams.

Rose laughed softly at the idea of Jack sketching instructional diagrams to aid in her fight against sexual frustration. Perhaps they could publish a book after the War.

She was interrupted from further exploration by a firm knock. "Rose?" her mother called. "Are you up here?"

Hastily, Rose sat up and rearranged her clothes. Patting her hair, she said, "Yes, Mother. I'm here."

Ruth opened the door. "Why are you in your room? Are you feeling ill?"

"I received some letters from Jack. I've been reading them," Rose explained. "I came upstairs so I could be alone."

"Is he alright?"

Rose nodded. "Yes, he's alright. I haven't finished reading them yet, but he appears to be fine."

"That's good to hear. Why don't you save the rest for later and come downstairs so we can go over the menu for the dinner party?" Ruth suggested. "I'd also like to discuss wardrobe options and seating arrangements."

Rose balked at the idea, but she knew refusal wasn't an option. "Of course. I'll be right down as soon as I put them away."

"I'll be in the sitting room." Ruth turned to go. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of Monet. He was spread out next to Rose on the far edge of the bed, half-asleep. "Rose, what have I told you about letting that dog on the bed?" she said. "It's a disgusting practice. You're inviting a flea infestation."

"Mother, he doesn't have fleas."

"Not yet, but he will," Ruth said darkly. "All dogs get fleas."

Rose held in a sigh. "It's fine. I bathe him regularly." She put a protective hand on Monet's head. His tail wagged sleepily. "I'll meet you downstairs, alright?"

She sighed as the door closed behind Ruth. "How much longer, Jack?" She folded the letters and placed them back in their envelopes. "When will you come back to me?" She traced his name with her fingertips, an ache filling her heart. "I miss you so much. Please be safe. I can't stand the thought of losing you."

….

_January 1914_

_Boston_

Of course, their life together wasn't always a softly-lit scene full of endearments and good times. Nor was it always a scene of them overcoming some struggle or adversity together, and thus, becoming even stronger and more committed to one another than ever. Sometimes it was just the two of them going about their day, and it could get rather dull.

Sometimes the monotony got the better of them, and tempers flared. Most of their disagreements were quickly forgotten, even laughed off. A few, however, weren't so easy to dismiss. Thus far, they'd managed to avoid any real arguments, but that was about to change.

That January was particularly difficult. It was one of the coldest Rose had ever experienced, and their poorly insulated room barely kept out the biting wind. The radiator had been broken since before Christmas. The building manager was supposed to fix it, but so far, there was no sign of that. Jack claimed he could do it. Rose believed him, but he'd been working late just about every night and hadn't had the night nor the energy to tackle it. So, they'd been wearing their coats at home and sleeping under a pile of blankets, huddled together.

"At least we have each other," Jack said, snuggling her closer.

Rose's smile was slightly forced. "Yes, we do." She didn't add that it was all they seemed to have lately, no matter how many hours they worked.

Rose liked her job. She'd been working as a waitress at a neighborhood cafe for about six months, ever since they came into town, and it was good, steady work. The customers were fairly polite, aside from a few who insisted on flirting with her. They weren't handsy, though, so she just smiled and brushed them off. Her tips were decent, and she even managed to pick up extra shifts most weeks, which was helpful since they were still saving to get out of Boston.

They were supposed to spend the winter in Florida. Rose wanted to go back to California, but they didn't have enough for train fare unless they stopped along the way and earned the money to keep going. Jack was hesitant to do that lately. She knew it was because of her. Part of her appreciated his protectiveness, but she also found it a bit frustrating at times. Didn't he think she could handle spending a few extra weeks on the road? How different could it be from the other places they stayed? Rose didn't realize there were things Jack had shielded her from, stories of his times working his way from place to place he hadn't told her because he hadn't wanted to upset her. He'd done his best to show her the real world but still hold back the worst of it when he could, not because he thought he couldn't handle it, but rather, because he loved her.

An injury kept them in Boston. Jack twisted his knee and couldn't work for over a month. He insisted he didn't need to see a doctor, but Rose got one anyway. The cost ate up their savings. Rose's earnings barely paid for rent and food. Before they knew it, winter was upon them. The world was covered in snow; the pipes were freezing every night, threatening to burst, and they were just barely getting by.

Rose caught Jack trying to go back to work early and threatened to tie him to the bed if he did it again. "I didn't know you thought about tyin me up," he teased, grinning.

Rose blushed lightly. "I don't. But I will do it for the good of your health, Jack."

"That's a shame. It could be fun."

Her blush deepened, spreading down to her neck. "Jack! Where would you even get such an idea?"

He shrugged. He lay back on the bed, propping his knee on a stack of pillows. "I dunno. I hadn't really thought about before, but since you brought it up, there's something about the idea of you tying me to the bed and havin your way with me." His blue eyes sparkled merrily. "Wouldn't ya say, Rose?"

"I wouldn't know," Rose said, covering how she was with a polite mask. "I've never thought about such things."

"But now you're gonna, right?"

That had been nearly four months ago, in October, and Jack's knee was fully healed, but it seemed to Rose that the end of his injury had also brought an end to the levity in their relationship. She didn't know why the change had occurred, nor did she know what to do about it.

It hadn't escaped Jack's notice either. Each night he held her close, hoping somehow that would bridge the gap growing between them. His wages had been raised two weeks before Christmas, and he'd secretly been putting money aside so they could escape to somewhere warm as soon as possible. He couldn't stand spending the winter surrounded by snow. He'd loved it as a kid. It was beautiful, watching the soft flakes pile on the ground, blanketing the earth. There was so much to do that couldn't happen any other time. Snowball fights, ice fishing, snow angels, making ice cream, sledding, even just the pleasant crunch of his boots on the frozen ground was nice.

But not anymore, not since _Titanic._ Now cold made his joints ache. His body was stiff in the mornings, and he had to flex his hands to get them working again. He tried not to, but sometimes he worried it would eventually affect his ability to draw. Rose didn't know. He carefully hid it from her, putting on a grin by the time she woke up. With the radiator broken, he hurt more than ever. His knee was starting to feel like it hadn't recovered after all, and he wondered if maybe he'd been wrong about it.

Jack didn't plan to go by the train station that day. He'd gotten off work early, and he was supposed to go straight home so he'd finally have time to take a look at the radiator in the daylight. But something pulled him in the opposite direction, and before he knew it, he was reading a Departure Board.

St. Louis, Philadelphia, Scranton, Pittsburgh, New York, Cambridge, Salem, Wellesley. None of them were right. A ticket to one of those would just mean being cold in a different place. Since he was here, he figured he might as well see what he could find out.

…

Rose was dozing on the bed when he came in. She wore her coat and had a blanket wrapped around her. Jack smiled as he kissed her cheek. "Hey, sweetie," he said softly.

"Jack?" she murmured sleepily.

"Uh-huh."

"You're early." She rubbed her eyes.

"I got off early. We ran out of parts," he explained. "I was gonna see about fixing the radiator-"

"Oh, thank God," she said. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself. "Finally, we'll have a little warmth again."

"But then I went to the train station."

Rose gave him a puzzled look. "The train station? Why?"

"It was a whim, really, but then I got there, and…" He took two tickets from his coat pocket. "I got these."

Rose gasped. "Jack, you bought train tickets?" She reached for them. "To California?"

He nodded. "Yeah. They were pretty cheap, actually."

"And they're for tomorrow," she said, dazed.

"We'll be there by next week. In the warm sun," he said. "Away from all this snow and ice."

Rose stared at the tickets. "You didn't tell me."

"I didn't know I was going to do it," he said. "I've been saving money, so we could-"

"You've been saving money?" Her gaze moved to him. "Jack, we've needed money, and you've had extra."

"Not much. Just, like, a dollar a week. I'm not even sure it's that much," he said. "I wanted us to be able to get outta here like we planned." He took her hand. "And now we will."

"But you didn't ask me, Jack."

"I thought you'd be happy," he said, confused. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"So you made this decision without even asking me."

"Rose, are you mad at me?" he asked. "I don't understand. I thought this was what you wanted."

"The last thing I want is someone deciding what I want for me," she said, taking her hand back.

"That's not what happened. You know I'd never do that, Rose."

"Didn't you?" she said.

Jack shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"That's how it feels."

"Maybe your feelings are wrong," he said, annoyed.

Rose's eyes widened. "What did you say?" She shot up from the bed, tossing the blanket aside. "How dare you!"

Jack leapt to his feet. He reached for her. "I'm sorry, Rose. I shouldn't have said that. I'm exhausted, and I'm freezing, but it's still not okay."

She shrugged off his efforts to hold her. "It's what Cal would've said to me."

Her words hit him like a blow to the face. Neither of them had mentioned him in nearly two years, not since they realized he wasn't coming after them. "I'm sorry, Rose. I didn't mean it."

There was a long silence. "I'm not saying you weren't well-intentioned," Rose said slowly."But Jack, you can't just make decisions that affect both of us without telling me. Of course I want to go to California. I'm so tired of being cold all the time! I can't stand this city for one more second! But I have a job here. A good one, and I like it. What if I wanted to keep it a little longer? What if I wanted us to save more money in case of another emergency, like what happened with your knee? Did any of that occur to you?"

"I guess not," Jack replied. "I just…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It seemed like the right choice."

"Perhaps it was. However, it's a choice we needed to make together. We've always made choices like this together," she said. "We agreed to that when we got married, remember?"

"I remember."

Rose shivered. She shugged herself, pressing her hands beneath her arms. "Here," he said, wrapping a blanket around her. "Take this." He tried to hold her, but she remained stiff.

"I'm still upset," she said.

"I know."

"I have every right to be," she added.

"You do," he agreed.

"Why aren't you fighting me?" she asked.

"It's too cold." He grinned crookedly. "I don't have the energy."

"Jack, if you think that's going to change anything-"

"I don't," he said. He gently touched her face. "Sometimes I think I forget it's not just me anymore. I mean, I know it's not, like today, I wasn't thinking about you not being happy about any of this. I just assumed I knew best." He traced her mouth with his thumb. "I won't do that again, Rose."

…...

_1917_

_Philadelphia_

The memories replayed in her head as Ruth droned on about menu options. It had taken a few days for things to settle between them, but by the time they arrived in California, everything was back to normal. Rose smiled to herself at the memory of their arrival. The sun was so bright and warm. Jack had turned his face up to it, closing his eyes, taking it in like a sunflower. If I could paint, she'd thought, that's how I'd paint him.

AN: Thanks for reading! I will be updating as often as I can!


	9. Chapter 9

_Summer 1914_

Some nights it was so hot sleeping in clothes was simply impossible. They'd toss and turn, kicking off the sheets, flipping the pillows in hopes of finding a cool spot, rarely touching, barely sleeping. Their bedroom window was open wide, the ceiling fan on high, but it offered little relief. They'd traveled up the California coast throughout the spring, settling on Oregon as their summer destination. Jack hadn't been there yet. He'd heard it didn't get too hot, and it sounded like as good a place as any. Rose agreed. She wanted to see the magnificent forests and the Multnomah Falls.

"We'll go," Jack promised. "It's supposed to be beautiful country up there."

"I've also read it's full of ghosts," Rose said, grinning.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Really? You wanna go ghost hunting, miss?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. It could be fun. The two of us, wandering the tunnels beneath Portland with lanterns, trying to contact spirits." She laughed. "Can't you just see it?"

"I can see us getting lost," he chuckled.

"Oh, I'm sure the ghosts will help us find our way back out."

"So confident," he teased.

"Shouldn't I be?" she said.

And so they'd added ghost hunting to their list of things to do while they were in Oregon. They'd only been there a few weeks, and thus far it seemed like they'd experienced at least three seasons of weather in that time. It was mild at first, balmy, really. The sun peeked out from behind soft clouds, and they spent their days lounging by the river.

"I could stay here all summer," Rose said, sighing contentedly. Her book lay across her stomach, forgotten. Her eyes were closed, and her arms were stretched above her head. Jack smiled as he watched her. He flipped to a fresh page in his sketchbook and turned to face her.

"Could you really?" he said.

She nodded. "Mmhmm. Couldn't you?"

"It's nice," he agreed. "Quiet." He glanced toward the river. Boats sailed up and down it. Fishermen stood on its banks. Around them other couples and families were taking advantage of the good weather. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with fresh air. It wasn't terribly exciting, but then again, did it have to be? They were planning to go downtown soon and see about job opportunities; no doubt there would be plenty of excitement to be had once they crossed the bridge. In the meantime, the weather was too good to waste it hunting down Help Wanted ads.

They'd woken up the next week to rain. Not proper rain, but rather, a persistent drizzle that annoys more than anything else. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees overnight, and they found themselves digging to the bottom of their bags for warmer clothes.

Rose shivered, wrapping herself in Jack's flannel shirt as she waited for the bath water to heat. "What happened to the summer?" she grumbled. "Isn't it June?"

"Far as I know," Jack replied. He hugged her from behind. "What'm I supposed to wear?" he joked, kissing her cheek. "Or do ya want me to freeze?"

"You're a big, tough man. I figured you could handle it." She leaned into his embrace, grateful for his warmth.

Jack spoke in a comically deep voice. "Obviously, I am, but even the manliest of men get cold." He hugged her tighter, tickling her sides.

She giggled. "Jack, don't!" She tried to squirm away, but his grip was firm. He kissed her jaw, then her neck.

"So very cold, Rose Petal," he whispered.

"Perhaps I could warm you?"

He nuzzled her neck. "Perhaps we could warm each other."

Smiling, she tilted her head back, allowing him more access. "I suppose you already have an idea about how to do that?"

"Well, you're on the right track with the bathwater." His breath tickled her neck, and she felt him grin. "But you're all wrong if you're thinkin about taking on by yourself."

"Oh, I am?"

Jack nodded. "Mmhm. On a morning like this you could freeze gettin in the tub by yourself." He kissed her cheek, gently turning her head so he could reach her lips. "You'd better let me go in with you."

"Yes, I can see where it would be rather dangerous." Rose laughed softly. "But not if I'm in your arms."

"Exactly."

…...

The rest of the week was cold. It was puzzling. Neither of them had ever experienced a June like it. The rain kept falling, except for a few brief hours each afternoon when the sun peeked out, but it offered little warmth and was gone almost as soon as it appeared. Their plans were pushed aside until the rain stopped. According to the man at the front desk of their hotel, that could happen anytime. It could be as soon as the next day or as late as August. "No way to tell really," he explained. "That's just how it is up here. Summer's a weird season. It never gets too hot, but it sure does rain all the time."

"Yeah, we've noticed," Jack said amiably.

"You get used to it." The man shrugged. "As for the temperature, you get used to that too. My advice, don't pack up all your winter clothes. Never know when you might need 'em."

"Thank you," Jack said with a laugh.

Back upstairs, he found Rose wrapped in another one of his shirts. "Well? Did you find out anything?" she asked.

"This is just the weather." He stretched out on the bed next to her. She lay her head on his shoulder, draping one arm over him. He hugged her close. "The guy said it does this sometimes, that it never really gets that hot anyway."

"It's almost like being back in Boston last winter."

Jack rubbed her back. "It's not really that bad, is it, Petal? I've been enjoying the chilliness." He kissed her forehead. "It's brought us so much closer together," he added flirtatiously.

Rose couldn't resist grinning. "I can't deny that," she said. "I just hate being cold after…"

"I know, Rose. Me too."

"This isn't the same," she said. "I'm being a spoiled brat again."

"Maybe a little," he said good-naturedly. "But you're my spoiled brat, and I love you."

"I love you too, Jack."

"What do ya say we warm up with a hot bath?" he murmured, his lips against her curls.

"I'd say that's a good idea. That last one wasn't quite thorough enough for me," she replied. "I think we need to spend a little more time in the tub."

"_Really_? Not thorough enough, huh?"

"No." She shook her head. "Don't worry, Jack. I'll make sure nothing's missed this time."

…

The heat blindsided them completely. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and instead of cold and wet, the world was suddenly hot and sunny, with only the occasional breeze for relief. They needed to find jobs, but who could even _think_ about dressing up and going downtown while sweat was rolling down their back and soaking their clothes? Or squeezing onto a crowded streetcar?

They'd managed to get through two previous summers, but somehow this one seemed worse. Perhaps it was the week of mild weather followed by the week of cold which caused them to be so unprepared to deal with temperatures that were actually appropriate for the season. Whatever the reason, neither of them seemed capable of rousing themselves before 10. Falling asleep was almost impossible, and after the first few days they discovered the best time for sleeping came between 2 and 10 am, when it was coolest.

Rose lounged in their only chair, her feet propped on their small table. She wore only a thin camisole. "We have to get up earlier tomorrow," she said wearily. The oppressive mid-afternoon heat made keeping her eyes open a chore, yet at the same time, it also made any attempts at napping feel a bit like being buried alive.

"We need to," Jack replied. He was stretched out on the bed, barefoot and shirtless.

"How badly?"

He chuckled. "Not too badly. We're doin alright."

"Our savings haven't gone down significantly since the last time we went over them?" she asked.

Jack shook his head. "No, we're being careful. Don't worry, Rose. I won't let anything happen to us."

Rose smiled affectionately. "I know you won't. It isn't just your responsibility, you know. I'm part of this too."

He returned her smile. "I'm gonna take care of you, Rose. That's what I promised to do when I married you."

"And if I recall correctly I made a similar promise to you. So, Mr. Dawson, it seems we are at an impasse." She raised an eyebrow. "Whatever shall we do about it?"

Jack chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure you'll come up with somethin."

…

Finally, after they adjusted to the heat, and had resigned themselves to getting up the next morning and going job hunting whether they felt like it or not, the temperature dropped, and once again the weather was lovely.

Jack stood before the open window, shaking his head in bemusement. "This place is weird," he said, grinning. "I like it."

"You would." Rose yawned. She arched her back, stretching like a cat. "You're weird too."

"I am?" He bent down and kissed her. "Is that why you married me?"

Rose laughed. "I married you because you're a crazy artist."

"Is that different from being weird?"

"Quite different," she said. She kissed him lightly. "I got very lucky."

"So did I."

…

With the weather so pleasant, they easily found jobs. Jack was helping build a new hotel downtown. Rose landed a position as a salesgirl in an upscale department store. It came with a 20% discount on all merchandise and a free shift meal in the store's cafe, which, she quickly discovered, was better than a few restaurants she'd been to. Thanks to the dress code's insistence on _proper_ heels her feet were aching by the end of every shift, but it was nothing a good soak wouldn't cure. They rode the train together every morning, parting when they reached downtown. In the evening they met at the same corner.

On weekends they explored the city. Sometimes they went out dancing or to see a picture. They spent Sunday afternoons in the park or by the river. Jack drew the scenes unfolding around them while Rose read. Sometimes she watched, and once or twice she tried her own hand at sketching, though she didn't think much of the results.

"I'm simply not an artist," she said, shaking her head. She closed the sketchbook. "I shall always be just an admirer."

"There's potential here," Jack said. He took the book from her hand and flipped it open. "See these lines? See how you drew that lady using just one line? There's something to that, Rose."

"You're only saying that to make me feel better."

"No, I'm not. It's true," he insisted. "Rose, you may not ever be the kind of artist I am, but so what? I'm not the kind of artist Picasso is, and I don't wanna be. I doubt he'd ever wanna draw the way I do either, and it's okay." He smiled encouragingly. "If you try, you could really do something, Petal. Something unique, maybe even something no-one's ever done before."

Rose returned his smile. "I appreciate your optimism, Jack," she said. "I do. But I just don't see it when I look at my scribblings."

"You know, a lotta people have looked at my drawings and called 'em scribbles," he reminded her. "I never let that stop me."

"That's because you're an artist."

"Maybe you are too," he said, kissing her hand.

"Maybe." She didn't sound convinced.

….

Their life was a simple but happy one. It felt good to be settled after a winter of moving around, and the weather seemed to agree. For the next month the moderate temperatures held, and they began thinking about possibly staying on through the fall.

And then it happened. One morning in late July they woke up covered in sweat. Their room was sweltering; not even the open windows helped. Rose groaned and flopped back onto her pillow. "Where did this heat come from?"

Jack kicked off the sheet. "I dunno."

"I told you this place was weird."

He laughed. "Yeah. At least we're not cold."

She wiped sweat from her forehead. "I'd rather be cold. We could stay in bed and cuddle all day."

"I like the way you think, Rose."

"Well, it can only be a thought," she said. "It's too hot to be touched." She rolled out of bed and onto her feet with a sigh. "I'm going to take a shower to cool off."

"I could join you," he offered with a grin.

She shook her head. "No, I mean it. It's just too hot." She gave him a small smile. "Maybe later."

"Alright."

The heat worsened throughout the week. Every morning the streetcar seemed even more crowded, the other passengers pressing in against them, despite Jack's best efforts to secure them a corner. Sweat dripped down Rose's neck, and soaked through her dress, and by noon each day she'd fussed and fought with her hair so much she contemplated going down the street to the beauty shop and having it cut. Not dramatically, of course, just enough so it wouldn't be quite so heavy. She envied Jack the ease with which he combed his hair and went in the morning. How deliciously cool his bare neck must have felt! She longed to know that feeling herself.

If only they could go swimming. If they were still in California, Jack thought, down by the beach, where they could run out into the ocean whenever they pleased. They'd come up the coast hoping to find relief from the summer heat, but apparently that only happened a few weeks at a time. He leaned back, his lunch sandwich in hand, hoping to catch a cool breeze. Maybe the heat would break over the weekend, and on Monday they'd find themselves wading through rain-soaked streets and shivering on their way to work. That prospect was almost starting to sound good. Rose was right; at least in the cold they could snuggle up together in bed. They'd barely touched since the heat descended upon them.

Monday came and went. And then two more. Still no relief. According to the other women Rose spoke to at the department store it was one of the worst heat waves in recent memory. Maude, the floor supervisor said, "I can't remember the last time it got this hot and stayed this way for so long." She fanned herself with a complimentary store fan. They were supposed to hand them out to all the customers who passed through, but lately everyone had fans of their own, and no-one was begrudging the employees what little snatches of coolness they could get. "It's just awful," she went on. "My vegetable garden may not make it. I keep watering it, but this heat dries it out so quickly, I don't know if it's enough."

"My husband and I thought Portland would be a nice place to spend the summer," Rose said. "We heard it was nice and temperate, with lots of rain. I didn't want to go very far, and neither of us wanted to spend the summer in Los Angeles."

"Most of the time it is," Maude replied. "But every ten, twenty years or so, we get one of these terrible heat waves that seem like they'll just never end."

Endless was exactly how each day began to feel. Rose found herself feeling drowsy by mid-afternoon, and as soon as she rinsed off the day's sweat and had a bite of dinner, she fell into bed and was immediately asleep. Jack managed to stay up a little longer, but he too was asleep by 7. After the first wave of exhaustion wore off, they'd spend the rest of the night tossing and turning, desperately trying to get back to sleep.

It was too hot to touch, too hot to sleep in clothes or with a sheet across them. They kept the ceiling fan going, and the windows thrown open, but it was a toss-up whether it actually helped or just made them feel like it did. Sometimes they lay on their sides and watched each other, hands outstretched. Jack longed to take her in his arms. When had he last held her while they slept? When had they last made love? They should've paid more attention, cared more. He would've settled for taking a walk and holding her hand at that point.

Rose rolled from one side to the other, sighed loudly each time. She sat up and punched her pillow. Sighing again, she flopped back down. A few second later she rolled onto her back.

"Rose, you alright?"

"I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

"It's kinda hard to do that with you shaking the bed," Jack said amiably.

"I'm sorry. I'll try not to thrash around so much," she said.

"It's okay. You sure nothing's wrong?"

"I just can't get comfortable," she said. "I'm so tired, and it's hot. I want you to hold me." She shook her head. "I want…"

"What is it, baby?"

"Nothing," she said. "It's fine."

He moved closer. "You can tell me."

A breeze blew across her, and for once it actually felt nice. She turned to face him. His golden skin seemed to glow in the dim light. "I want you to touch me," she whispered. "I miss you."

"Oh Rose." He tenderly cupped her cheek. "I miss you too."

She lay her hand over his. "Will you kiss me?"

He nodded. The kiss was soft and sweet. Instinctively, they moved toward each other, their arms reaching for the other. The breeze was picking up, and for the first time in weeks their bedroom was breathable. "Jack," she whispered.

"I'm right here, Rose."

There weren't any clothes to get in their way. Their hands were free to explore as they pleased, rediscovering curves and angles they knew so well but had been denied for what felt like years. Rose gasped as Jack's hand moved between her legs. His fingertips gently stroked her most sensitive places, arousing her even further. "Jack, don't stop."

"I won't, Rose Petal," he whispered, as his lips moved down her neck.

Meanwhile, rain began to fall outside their window.

…

_Present _

_France_

These were the memories Jack fell into when it all became too much, when the sound of nearby bombs and gunfire filled his head at night, and he couldn't sleep. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to the days when a few weeks of being hot and uncomfortable was the worst they had to deal with, when their lives were only an adventure to them. He clutched those days to his heart and promised himself they'd have them again. When he had the night shift, he'd look up at the stars and send the promise to Rose. _I'm not fighting yet,_ he'd think. _I'm close, but they're not shooting at me yet. I'm still safe, Petal. _


	10. Chapter 10

_Spring 1915_

She had gotten along thanks to the help of a few generous-and discreet-friends. Cal wasn't among them. For the first few months after the tragedy dutifully played the role of grieving fiance, but they'd both known that couldn't last forever. He wasn't a widower; he owed her nothing, and so the little he did give her would've been considered more than generous if their friends knew about it. Well, to most of them, anyway. A few of the older ladies would've found it appalling that he didn't at least make sure she was comfortably set up before turning his back on her. It was the least a man in his position would've done for a cast-off mistress. Didn't a would-be mother-in-law deserve the same level of respect? Apparently not, Ruth thought, as she added the columns in her budget book. After a certain age, women warranted very little consideration at all it seemed.

But everything was different now. During the three years that had passed she had managed to build a life for herself that wasn't entirely horrible. It was still a bit of a shock sometimes, to realize she _wasn't_ destitute, nor was she living in a fetid slum, but rather, in a pleasant, though modest house purchased with funds leftover after the payment of her late husband's debts. Her friends had seen to it that she didn't need to seek employment, but unfortunately, the enormity of the social divide between them meant the occasional letter and check were all that passed between them anymore. Instead, Ruth found herself making new friends among the sort of women she once looked down upon as merely "middle class" and sometimes "hopelessly aspirational."

When Herbert began calling she was amused at first. Whatever made him think she would have any interest? Weren't they both a bit too old for such things? He was charming, though not overly persistent, and Ruth sensed he'd be pleasant to live with. He was still good-looking, and most of his youthful, athletic build remained. Even though she was more concerned about stability than handsomeness, she preferred an enviable husband to an ugly one. When she was sure his business was sound, and his savings were indeed real, she prepared to accept his proposal if it ever came.

A month later, it did. They decided to be married in the spring, since it was Herbert's first and only wedding. He had a handful of living relatives which he invited, some cousins, an aunt, and a younger brother, while Ruth invited only her friends from the various charitable and women's groups she'd joined.

All appeared to be on track until the letter came. It arrived exactly a week and a half before the wedding. Ruth recognized her daughter's handwriting instantly. They'd only visited twice in three years, and those had been brief, awkward meetings. Everyone involved was secretly relieved when they ended.

Ruth opened the letter but didn't take it out. It could simply be a coincidence, but something told her it wasn't. Rose had written for a reason. She took a deep breath and scanned the letter. It was even worse than she'd feared.

…

It couldn't happen. She wouldn't _allow_ it to happen. Ruth laughed. As if anything could be done about it. They were already on a train, hurtling in her direction. They could arrive at any minute. Just because the letter said they'd be there Wednesday morning didn't mean that's when they'd actually arrive. _Jack_ was involved, which meant any number of unforeseen events could happen. He could talk Rose into leaping off the train into the night and walking the rest of the way if the urge came into his head.

Ruth took a bracing sip of tea that turned into draining the whole cup. She wished she'd never thought of that possibility. She could just see them running off into some dark field, miles from the city, with Jack convinced he could use the stars to guide them the rest of the way. It was a miracle he hadn't gotten Rose killed yet. Or worse. It was if he had no understanding of the dangers a young woman like her faced. Or he just didn't care.

Well, she would have to figure out the best way to handle this. Herbert knew she had a daughter, but so far she'd avoided telling him the details about their relationship. As far as Ruth was concerned, he knew all he needed to know. Rose was married, and she didn't live close enough for frequent visits. Nothing about that was untrue.

She sighed. Rose would probably be willing to cooperate, at least for the wedding, but would Jack? Would he go along with it for Rose, or would he be obstinate and insist on total honesty? Would he see anything less as some sort of betrayal of his "values" or of their "love"? The more she thought about it, the more it sounded like the sort of thing he _would_ do. Honestly, it was as if the boy had been put on the Earth for the express purpose of making her life difficult.

As long as she could find something decent for them to wear, everything else could be taken care of somehow, she finally decided.

…

They arrived Wednesday afternoon, so the letter was partially correct. The maid showed them into the sitting room. They each only had one bag with them. They were on the small sofa when Ruth came in, whispering to each other. Spring had only just begun, and yet Jack was already golden brown, and freckles dotted Rose's nose. Ruth's mouth twitched disapprovingly. Rose's hand immediately went to her nose. Jack gave her a curious look but said nothing.

"I expected you this morning," Ruth said. "I hope you didn't run into any trouble."

"Our train was late," Rose explained. "So we decided to have lunch before we came, and then we got distracted," she added with a sheepish grin.

"We were exploring," Jack said. "It was winter both times we were here before. There wasn't much to see."

Something about the glint in his eyes made her think it wasn't the city they'd been exploring, but rather, each other. Ruth held back a shudder. Even after three years she could still hardly believe Rose had married him. Not going back and trying to make up with Cal was one thing, but pledging herself to _Jack Dawson_ of all people was quite another. They didn't even have a stable home. Rose claimed it was because they preferred being free to travel at a moment's notice. Ruth believed it was because Jack was unable to provide one. His stories about being a carefree wanderer were quite romantic, especially to a sheltered young girl like Rose, but she suspected they were merely a clever cover for his inability to maintain a decent job. Or, if he did manage to do so, to ever advance any further. Despite his devastating good looks and charm, Jack was destined for mediocrity, and Ruth was convinced they both knew it. Rose, however, was still completely fooled by his act. As she watched them sitting across from her, holding hands and sneaking glances like a pair of newlyweds, Ruth wondered what would happen when Rose finally saw him for exactly what he was.

"I'm sorry for just appearing out of nowhere without warning," Rose said. "We weren't planning to visit until later this summer, but then we found ourselves with an opportunity in Vermont, which meant we'd have to go through here anyway." She smiled. "It seemed like fate, almost."

"What sort of opportunity?" Ruth asked. Her gaze flicked over to Jack. "A business opportunity?"

"You could say that," Jack replied. "I got a job teaching art."

"Really?" Ruth said. "How interesting. What brought this about?"

"Well, I sold some drawings a few months ago to this guy, and it turns out he runs a small school up there," Jack explained. "They're trying out an arts program this summer, and he wants me to be one of the teachers."

Ruth nodded, her expression unchanged. "It's good to hear you've been offered a job. I trust it pays well."

Jack's eyebrows quirked. "It does. And we'll be living on campus, so we won't have to worry about expenses."

"Oh, well, isn't that every mother's dream," Ruth said drily. "To learn her daughter will be mistress of her own dormitory."

Rose pursed her lips. "Mother, was that really necessary?"

"I was merely being truthful," Ruth said. "The least he could do is provide you with a home of your own."

Rose sighed. "We've been over this. You know why we live the way we do."

"I know what you tell me. I _don't_ know it's the truth," Ruth replied.

Rose closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "I don't understand why you assume those are two different things."

Jack gently pressed circles in the back of her neck with his thumb. "Can we just not do this?" he said, turning to Ruth. "This one time, can we skip this part? You don't like me. I know. I get it. You don't hafta keep finding new ways to tell me. But you like Rose, don't you?"

Ruth's mouth thinned. Twin red spots filled her cheeks. "I love her. Don't insinuate anything less."

"Alright then," he said. "So, enjoy the visit."

"Jack, this isn't necessary," Rose said. "Really, it's fine."

"No, Rose-" he began.

"Jack."

They stared at each other for a moment. The silence was broken by Rose. "Mother, would you please excuse us? It was a long trip, and I think we should go upstairs and freshen up a bit."

…...

Rose sank onto the bed with a sigh. She removed her hat and rubbed her temples. "We haven't been here in over a year. I really thought this visit would go differently."

"I shouldn'ta fought with her," Jack said.

"No, you shouldn't have." She looked up at him. "But I appreciate you trying to keep peace. I know you were doing it for my sake."

He placed a kiss on her curls. "I was."

Rose smiled wanly. "It's not up to you to protect me from my mother, Jack. I can handle her."

"I know you can. I just, I don't want you to have to with all that picking she does," he said. "If she'd come right out and insult me, that'd be one thing, but she won't. It's always gotta be this game where no-one's allowed to say what they really mean."

"You _want_ her to tell you what a loathsome, pathetic excuse for a husband she finds you?" Rose said, raising an eyebrow. "Is our relationship too affectionate for you, Jack? Would you prefer I berate you between kisses?" Amusement shone in her eyes.

He grinned. "I really wouldn't, Petal." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'd just prefer she didn't pretend, you know?"

"I know, Jack. But it's never going to happen."

He sighed. "We're only here for a week, right? It's not like we hafta to live here."

Rose laughed. "Thank God. Can you imagine what that would be like? I'd go crazy in a month." She stood up and placed her shoes under the edge of the bed. "She'd probably start throwing parties and inviting every eligible young man she knows, hoping I'll end up smitten with one of them and divorce you."

Jack slipped his arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. "I'm gonna have something to say about that." He kissed her cheek. "I'm kinda used to havin you as my wife."

"Oh, are you? I hadn't noticed," she teased. She tilted her head back and kissed him. "You're always so reticent when it comes to talking about your feelings," she murmured. "If only you'd made yourself clearer, Jack. Then maybe all those eligible young men wouldn't be so tempting."

He pulled her closer. "I can tell you everything, Rose Petal," he whispered huskily. "From now on, I'll be as clear as a bell."

"I'll hold you to that," she said airily. "I expect you to maintain this level of transparency."

He kissed her softly, with a barely concealed hunger. "As long as you're holding me," he whispered. "I'll do anything you want."

Rose giggled. "Anything."

His blue eyes met hers. "Anything, miss."

She nearly melted under his gaze. "We should be getting back downstairs soon. Mother will be expecting us." But she made no attempt to leave his embrace. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Jack," she whispered, nuzzling his neck. She breathed in his scent; no matter the season, he always smelled fresh, like the outdoors, like clean grass and flowers, with just a hint of lemon from his soap. "I want to stay up here for a while."

He smiled. "We can stay up here as long as you want, Petal."

She slowly dotted kisses down his neck. "Did you lock the door?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good," she murmured. Her teeth lightly grazed his skin, and he sucked in his breath. She giggled. Tilting her head up to look at him, she said, "Take me to bed, Jack."

"Of course, miss." He kissed her. "My pleasure, miss."

He always undressed her so quickly and yet with such finesse. His large hands caressed her body, loving every inch of her. "My gorgeous, wild Rose," he whispered, gazing down at her. She smiled up at him. Her curls were spread across the pillow, glowing like flames against the white silk case. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. "I love you so much. You know that, right?"

"Jack, of course I know that." She pulled him down into a tender kiss. "Why would you even ask such a thing, monsieur artiste?"

"Just wanted…" His words were lost as their kisses deepened. Rose raked her fingers through his hair. She loved the way his silky locks slipped through her hands. It was still just as long as the day she met him. Anytime he mentioned cutting it she refused to hear of it. Jack didn't actually want to change his hair; he just liked teasing her. And even if he had wanted to, he didn't think he could stand the loss of her grabbing it when they made love.

Rose wrapped her legs around his waist, lifting her hips to meet his. He pressed against her centre, hard and aching for her. "Rose," he groaned. He slipped a hand between them. She gasped as he gently stroked her. His thumb rubbed circles over her most sensitive place. He grinned and kissed her. "You know I gotta make sure you're ready, Petal."

She playfully tugged his lip with her teeth. "Such a generous lover, monsieur." Her voice shook slightly as pleasure rippled through her. "Always so...Jack…"

He reclaimed her mouth, kissing her eagerly. "I aim to please, miss," he groaned.

…

It was nearly dinnertime when they finally made it back downstairs. Ruth was pacing the length of the sitting room, twisting her hands. She turned at their approach. "There you are," she said sharply. "Where have you been? I expected you back hours ago." Her eyes narrowed slightly as she took in Rose's loose hairstyle and Jack's arm draped around her waist. "I hoped you would dress for dinner."

Rose glanced down at herself. "I thought this dress was appropriate."

"It will do," Ruth said. "Your hair, however, could be a bit more controlled. We're not having a picnic, after all."

Jack frowned, tightening his grip on her. "I think she looks lovely. I'm always asking her to wear her hair down more often."

"Of course you are," Ruth said. "I should have known."

"Mother, unless there's some reason why you'd prefer I put my hair up, I'd rather leave it like this," Rose said.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is," Ruth replied. "Had you come down when I expected you to, we could've discussed it properly, but since you took your time, I'll have to rush through it." She took a breath. Rose glanced at Jack. He shrugged. "This won't be a simple dinner," Ruth explained. "This entire week won't be a simple week. You've arrived at a rather interesting time. You see, I'm getting married next Saturday."

Rose stared at her. Jack's mouth hung open. Married? _Ruth_? It didn't seem possible. And yet, here she was, nervously wringing her hands like a young girl seeking her parents' approval.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Rose asked. "How long have you been engaged? I-I don't understand. You never mentioned it in any of your letters. Why…Oh," she said softly, nodding in understanding. "Of course."

"I was going to tell you," Ruth said. "I had every intention of telling you. Rose, you _must_ know that. But you're always moving around, and I wasn't sure where you'd be. I didn't want you to feel obligated to drop everything and rush back here."

"No, it's only your wedding," Rose said. "You wouldn't want to inconvenience us for something like that."

"Exactly," Ruth said. "I knew we could have a party of our own the next time you visited, and after all, second weddings are hardly a large affair anyway."

"Of course," Rose said.

The doorbell chimed. "That will be him now," Ruth said. "Please, behave properly, both of you. I'm begging you."

"Don't worry," Jack said. "We will."

Ruth swept out of the room without another word. Rose sighed. Jack hugged her to him, bringing her head to rest on his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his middle. "She didn't want us here, Jack," she said. "I know it's always awkward when we visit, but I never thought she'd do something like this."

"We can go," he offered. "Pack up and leave right now, Rose."

She shook her head. "No, we're already here. I want to see this man she's marrying. Make sure he's not some swindler."

He kissed her forehead. "You're sweet, you know that?"

"I believe not letting one's mother be cheated by a conman is the least one can do, actually. Especially after throwing away a glorious fortune."

Jack chuckled. "You never know, I might strike it rich one of these days, and then she'll regret everything she's ever said to me."

"She won't regret a single word, Jack." Rose looked up at him. "She'll simply pretend she never said any of it."


End file.
